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LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

CRAIG    KERR 


THE 


ADY  OF  THE   LAKE 


^  iaoem. 


BY  WALTER  SCOTT,  ESQ 


NEW  YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY  CLARK  &,  AUSTIN, 

KO.    205    BROADWAY. 
!  1851. 


5^ 


TO   THE   MOST   \OBLE 

JOHN   JAMES, 

MAKquiS      OF      ABERCORN 

&,c.  &.C.  &LC. 

THIS  POEM  IS  INSChlHED   BY 

THE   AUTHOR 


ARGJJMEINT. 

The  Scene  of  the  following  Poem  is  laid  chiefly 
in  the  \'icinity  of  Loch  Katrine,  in  the  Western 
Highlands  of  Perthshire.  The  Time  of  Action 
includes  Six  Days,  and  the  transactions  of  each 
day  occupy  a  Canto. 


COiNTE^^TS. 

PAOK 

CANTO  1.  The  Chase, 9 

II.  The  Island, 33 

III.  The  GATHERING;! 59 

IV.  The  Prophecy, 81 

V.  The  Combat 105 

VT.    The  Guard-Room, 131 


10  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      Canto  I. 

Fair  danres  and  crested  chiefs  attention  bow'd  ; 
For  still  the  burden  of  thy  Minstrelsy 
Was  knighthood's   dauntless  deed,  and  beauty  "s 
matchless  eye. 

O  wake  once  morel  how  rude  soe'er  the  hand 

That  ventures  o'er  thy  raagic  maze  to  stray  ; 
O  wake  once  more  1  though  scarce  my  skill  coa- 
mand 
Some  leeble  echoing  of  thine  earlier  lay  ; 
Tiiough  harsh  and  fai#t,  and  soon  to  die  away. 

And  all  unworthy  of  thy  nobler  strain, 
Vet  if  one  heart  throb  higher  at  its  sway, 
The  wizard  note   has     not  been   touched    m 
vain. 
Then  silent     be  no  morel    Enchantiess    wukt 
ttgninl 


THE    CHASE. 


i. 

THE  stag  at  eve  had  drunk  his  fill, 
Where  danced  the  moon  en  Monan's  rill, 
And  deep  his  midnight  lair  had  made, 
In  lone  Glenartney's  hazel  shade  ; 
But,  when  the  sun  his  beacon  red 
Had  kindled  on  Benvoirlich's  head. 
The  deep-mouthed  blood-hound's  heavy  bay- 
Resounded  up  the  rocky  way, 
And  faint,  from  further  distance  borne, 
Wero  heard  the  clanging  hoof  and  honj. 

II. 

As  chief  who  hears  his  warder  call, 

"•To  arms !  the  foemen  storm  the  wall,'" — 

The  antler'd  monarch  of  the  waste 

Sprung  from  his  heathery  couch  in  haste. 

But  e'er  his  fleet  career  he  took. 

The  dew-drops  from  his  flanks  he  shook ; 

Like  crested  leader  proud  and  high, 

Tossed  Lis  beamed  frontlet  to  the  sky ; 

A  moment  gazed  adown  the  dale, 

A  moment  snuffed  the  tainted  gale, 

A  moment  listeued  to  the  cry, 

That  thickened  as  the  chase  drew  nigh ; 

Then  as  the  headmost  foes  appeared. 

With  one  brave  bound  the  copse  he  cleared. 

And,  stretching  forwara  free  and  far, 

Sought  the  wild  heaths  of  Uam-Var. 


12  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      Ca.iie-  I 

111. 

Telled  on  the  view  tlie  openiii;^  pack. 
Rock,  glen,  and  cavern  paid  iheni  back; 
To  many  a  mingled  sound  at  once, 
The  awakened  mountain  gave  response. 
An  hundred  dogs  bayed  deep  and  strong, 
Clattered  an  hundred  steeds  aloiifj. 
Tlieir  peal  the  merry  horns  rung  nut. 
An  hundred  voices  joined  the  siioiit ; 
With  hark  and  whoop  and  wild  halloo 
\o  rest  Benvoirlich's  echoes  knew. 
Far  from  the  tumult  fled  the  roe. 
Close  in  her  covert  cowered  the  doe, 
The  falcon,  from  her  cairn  on  liigli, 
Cast  on  the  rout  a  wondering  eye, 
Till  far  beyond  her  piercing  ken 
The  hurricane  had  swept  the  glen. 
Faint,  and  more  faint,  its  failing  din 
Resumed  from  cavern,  chflT,  and  linn. 
And  silence  settled,  wide  and  still. 
On  the  lone  wood  and  mighty  liill. 

IV. 

Less  loud  the  sounds  of  svlvan  war 
Disturbed  the  heights  of  XJam-Var, 
And  roused  the  cavern,  where  'tis  told 
A  giant  made  his  den  of  old  ; 
For  e'er  that  steep  ascent  was  won. 
High  in  his  pathway  lumg  the  sun. 
And  many  a  gallant,  stayed  per  force, 
Was  fain  to  breathe  his  faltering  horse  ; 
And  of  the  trackers  of  the  deer 
Scarce  half  the  lessening  pack  was  near; 
So  shrewdlv  on  the  mountain  side, 
Had  the  bold  burst  their  mettle  tried. 


The  noble  stag  was  pausing  nov/. 
Upon  the  mountain's  soutJiern  brow. 


Canto  I.  THE  CHASE.  13 

Where  broad  extended,  far  baneath, 
The  varied  realms  of  fair  Menteith. 
With  anxious  eye  he  wandered  o'er 
Mountain  and  meadow,  moss  and  moor, 
And  pondered  refuge  from  his  toil, 
By  far  Lochard  or  Abcribyle. 
But  nearer  was  tlie  copse-wood  gray, 
That  waved  and  wept  on  Locli-Achray 
And  mingled  with  the  pine-lrees  blue 
On  the  bold  cliffs  of  Benvenue. 
Fresh  vigour  with  the  hope  returned, 
With  flying  foot  the  heath  he  spurned, 
Field  westward  with  unwearied  race. 
And  left  behind  the  panting  chase. 

Vi. 

'Twere  long  to  tell  what  steeds  gave  o'er, 
As  swept  the  hunt  through  Cambus-moor; 
What  reins  were  tiglitened  in  despair, 
When  rose  Benledis  bridge  in  au- ; 
Who  llagged  upon  Bochastle's  heath. 
Who  shunned  to  stem  the  flooded  Teitli. — 
For  twice,  that  day,  from  shore  to  shore. 
The  gallant  stag  swam  stoutly  o'er. 
Few  v/ere  the  stragglers,  following  far. 
That  reached  the  lake  of  Vennachar 
And  when  the  Brigg  of  Turk  was  won, 
The  headmost  horseman  rode  alone. 


Alone,  but  with  unbaled  zeal. 

That  horseman  plied  the  scourge  and  steel ; 

For  jaded  now,  and  spent  with  toil. 

Embossed  with  foam,  and  dark  with  soil, 

While  every  gasp  with  sobs  he  drev/, 

The  labouring  stag  stra,ined  full  in  view. 

Two  dogs  of  black  Saint  Hubert's  breed, 

Unmatched  for  courage,  breath,  and  speed 

Fast  on  his  flying  traces  came. 

And  all  but  won  that  desperate  game  : 


l^  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      Caiito  L 

For,  scarce  a  spear's  lengtii  from  his  haunch. 

Vindictive   toiled  the  biood-hounds  stanch  ; 

Xor  nearer  might  the  dogs  attain, 

jVor  further  might  the  quarr}'  strain. 

Thus  up  the  margin  ot'  tiie  lake, 

Between  the  precipice  and  brake. 

O'er  stock  and  rock  tlieir  race  tliey  take. 

vin. 

The  hunter  marked  that  mountain  high. 
The  lone  lake's  western  boundary. 
And  deemed  tlvo  stag  must  turn  to  bay, 
Where  that  luigo  rampart  barred  the  way; 
Already  glorying  in  the  prize. 
Measured  his  antlers  with  his  eyes  ; 
For  the  death-wound,  and  death-halloo. 
Mustered  his  breath,  his  whinyard  drew  ; 
But,  thundering  as  lie  came  prepared, 
With  ready  arm  and  weapon  bored. 
The  wily  quarry  shunned  the  shock. 
And  turned  liim  from  the  opposing  rock ; 
Then,  dashing  down  a  darksome  glen. 
Soon  lost  to  hound  and  hunter's  ken, 
In  tlie  deep  Trosach's  wildest  nook 
His  solitary  refuge  look. 
There  while,  close  couched,  the  thicket  slie<J 
Cold  dews  and  wild  flowers  on  liis  head. 
He  heard  the  baffled  dogs  in  vain 
Rave  tlu-ough  the  hollow  pass  amain, 
Chiding  tlie  rocks  Uiat  yelled-again. 

IX. 

Close  on  the  hounds  the  hunter  came, 
To  cheer  them  on  the  vanislied  gams; 
But  stumbling  in  the  rugged  dell^ 
The  gallant  horse  exhausted  fell. 
The  impatient  rider  strove  in  vain 
To  rouse  liim  with  the  spur  and  rein. 
For  the  good  steed,  his  labours  o'er, 
Stretched  his  stiff  limbs  to  rise  no  more ; 


Canto  T.  THE  CHASE. 

Then,  touched  with  pity  and  remorse, 
He  sorrowed  o''er  the  expiring  horse. 
"  I  little  thought,  when  first  thy  'rein 
I  slacked  upon  the  banks  of  Seine, 
That  highland  eagle  e'er  should  feed 
On  thy  fleet  limbs,  my  matchless  steed  ! 
Wo  worth  the  chase,  wo  worth  the  day, 
That  costs  thy  life,  my  gallant  gray  1" 

X. 

Then  through  the  dell  his  horn  resounds, 
From  vain  pursuit  to  call  the  hounds. 
Back  limped,  with  slow  and  crippled  pac® 
The  sulky  leaders  of  the  chase ; 
Close  to  their  master's  side  they  pressed, 
With  drooping  tail  and  humbled  crest ; 
But  still  the  dingle's  hollow  throat 
Prolonged  the  swelling  bugle  note. 
The  owlets  started  from  their  dream, 
The  eagles  answered  with  tlieir  scream. 
Round  and  around  the  sounds  were  cast 
rill  echo  seemed  an  answering  blast ; 
A.nd  on  the  hunter  hied  his  pace. 
To  join  some  comrades  of  the  chase ; 
ifet  oflen  paused,  so  strange  the  road, 
So  wondrous  were  the  scenes  it  showM 

XI. 

The  western  \^^aves  of  ebbing  day 
Rolled  o'er  the  glen  their  level  way ; 
Each  purple  pe^ik,  each  flinty  ."'pire. 
Was  bathed  in  floods  of  living  fire. 
But  not  a  setting  beam  could  glow 
Within  the  dark  ravines  below, 
Where  twin'd  the  path  in  shadow  hid. 
Round  many  a  rocky  pyramid, 
Shooting  abruptly  from  the  dell 
Its  thunder-splintered  pinnacle ; 
Round  many  an  insulated  mass. 
The  native  bulwarks  of  the  pass. 


16  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.       Canto  I 

Hui^e  as  llic  tower  which  builders  vain 

Presumptuous  piled  on  Slimar's  plain. 

Their  rocky  summits,  split  and  rent, 

Fonned  turret,  dome,  or  battiement. 

Or  seemed  fantastically  set 

With  cupola  or  minaret. 

Wild  crests  as  pag-od  ever  decked 

Or  mosque  of  eastern  architect. 

Nor  were  these  earth-born  castles  bare, 

Nor  lacked  tliey  many  a  banner  fair ; 

For,  from  their  shivered  brows  displayed 

Far  o'er  the  unfathomable  glade, 

All  twinklmg  with  the  dew  drop  sheen. 

The  brier-rose  fell  in  streamers  green. 

And  creeping  shrubs  of  thousand  dies, 

^Vaved  in  the  west-wind's  summer  sighs 

XU. 
Boon  nature  scattered,  free  and  wild, 
Each  plant  or  flower,  the  mountain's  child  , 
Here  eijlantine  embalmed  the  air, 
Hawthorn  and  hazel  mingled  there  ; 
The  primrose  pale,  and  violet  flower, 
Fomid  in  each  cleft  a  narrow  bower ; 
Fox-glove  and  night-shade,  side  by  side. 
Emblems  of  punishment  and  pride. 
Grouped  their  dark  hues  with  ever}'  stain, 
The  weather-beaten  crags  retain ; 
With  boughs  that  quaked  at  every  breath, 
Grav  birch  and  aspln  wept  beneath ; 
AloA,  tlie  ash  and  warrior  oak 
Cast  anchor  in  the  ritled  rock  ; 
And,  higher  yet,  tke  pine-tree  hung 
His  shattered  trunk,  and  frequent  llung. 
Where  seemed  tiie  clilTs  to  meet  on  liigh, 
Flis  boughs  athwart  the  narrowed  sky. 
Hiffhest  of  all,  where  white  peaks  glanced. 
Where  filistening  streamers  waved  and  danced 
The  waTidcrer's  eye  could  barely  view 
The  summer  heaven's  delicious  blue; 


Canto  I.  THE  CHASE. 

So  wondrou?  wild,  the  whole  might  seem 
The  scenery  of  a  fairy  dream. 

XIII. 

Onward,  amid  the  copse  'gan  peep 
A  narrow  inlet  still  and  deep, 
Affording  scarce  such  breadth  of  brim. 
As  served  the  wild-duck's  brood  to  swim  : 
Lost  for  a  space,  through  thickets  veering. 
But  broader  when  again  appearing. 
Tall  rocks  and  tufled  knolls  their  face 
Could  on  the  dark-blue  mirror  trace ; 
And  further  as  the  Jiunler  strayed, 
Still  broader  sweep  its  channels  made. 
The  shaggy  mounds  no  longer  stood, 
Emerging  from  entangled  wood. 
But,  wave-encircled  seemed  to  float. 
Like  castle  gir^Ued  with  its  moat ; 
Yet  broader  floods  extending  siiil. 
Divide  them  from  their  parent  hill. 
Till  each,  retiring,  claims  to  be 
An  islet  in  an  inland  sea. 

XIV 

And  now,  to  issue  from  the  glen, 

No  pathway  meets  the  wanderer's  ken. 

Unless  he  climb,  with  footing  nice, 

A  far  projecting  precipice. 

The  broom's  tougli  roots  hLs  ladder  made. 

The  hazel  saplings  lent  their  aid ; 

And  thus  an  airy  point  he  won. 

Where,  gleaming  with  the  setting  sun. 

One  bumish'd  sheet  of  living  gold, 

Loch-Katrine  lay  beneath  him  rolled, 

In  all  her  length  far  winding  lay. 

With  promontory,  creek,  and  bay. 

And  islands  that,  empurpled  bright. 

Floated  amid  the  livelier  light ; 

And  mountains,  that  like  giants  stand 

To  sentinel  enchanted  land. 
B 


18  LADY  OF  THE  LAKK.      Canio  I 

Fligh  on  the  soiilh,  ]vigo  Bcnvenuo 

Down  lo  the  hike  in  masses  'Jirow 

Crags,  knolls,  and  mounds,  (-unlnscdly  hurled. 

The  fragments  of  an  earlier  world : 

A  wilderiniT  forest  feathered  o'er 

(fis  ruined  sides  and  sumnut  hoar. 

While  on  the  north,  ihrouLi^h  nnddle  air, 

Ben-an  heaved  high  his  Ibreiiead  bare. 

XV. 

From  the  steep  promontory  gazed 

The  stranger,  lapturcd  and  amazed. 

And,  "  What  a  scene  were  here,"  lie  cried. 

*'  For  princely  pomp  or  churchman's  pride 

On  this  bold  bro\/,  a  lordly  tower ; 

In  that  soft  vale,  a  lady's  bower : 

On  yonder  meadow,  far  away, 

Tiie  turrets  of  a  cloisler  gray  ; 

How  blithely  might  the  bugle  horn 

Chide,  on  the  lake,  the  lingering  mom  ? 

How  sweet,  at  eve,  the  lover's  lute 

Chime,  when  the  groves  were  still  and  mule 

And,  when  the  midnight  moon  did  lavo 

Her  forehnad  in  the  silver  wave. 

How  solemn  on  the  ear  would  como 

The  holy  matin's  distant  hum. 

While  the  deep  peal's  commanding  tono 

Should  wake,  in  yonder  islet  lone, 

A  sainted  iiermit  from  his  cell. 

To  drop  a  bead  with  every  knell — 

And  bugle,  lute,  and  bell,  and  all, 

Should  each  bewildered  stranger  call 

To  friendly  feast,  and  lighted  liall. 

XVi. 

•  Blithe  were  it  then  to  wander  here  ! 
Hut  now, — beshrev/  yon  nimble  deer.— 
Like  that  same  herm"its,  thin  an  1  sparo, 
The  copse  must  give  iny  evening  fare  ; 


Canto  I  THE  CHASE.  I9 

Some  mossy  bank  my  couch  must  be, 
Some  rustling  oak  m}'  canopy. 
Yet  pass  we  that ; — the  war  and  chase 
Give  httle  choice  of  resting-place ; — 
A  summer  niglit,  in  green- wood  spent, 
Were  but  to-morrow's  merriment ; — 
But  hosts  may  in  these  wilds  abound, 
Such  as  are  better  missed  than  found  ; 
To  meet  with  highland  plunderers  here 
Were  worse  than  loss  of  steed  or  deer. — 
I  am  alone  ; — my  bugle  strain 
May  call  some  straggler  of  the  tram  ; 
Or  fall  the  worst  that  may  betide, 
Era  now  this  falchion  has  been  tried." 

XVII. 

But  scarce  again  his  horn  he  wound. 
When  lo !  forth  starting  at  the  sound, 
From  underneath  an  aged  oak. 
That  slanted  from  the  islet  rock, 
A  Damsel  guider  of  its  way, 
A  little  skiff  shot  to  the  bay. 
That  round  the  promontory  slee[) 
Led  its  deep  line  in  graceful  sweep, 
Eddying,  in  almost  viewless  wave, 
The  weeping  willow  twig  to  lave, 
And  kiss,  with  whispering  sound  and  slow, 
The  beach  of  pebbles  bright  as  snov.^. 
The  boat  had  touched  the  silver  strand. 
Just  as  tlie  hunter  left  his  stand. 
And  stood  concealed  amid  the  brake 
To  view  this  Lady  of  the  Lake. 
The  maiden  paused,  as  if  again 
She  thought  to  catch  the  distant  strain. 
With  head  up-raised,  and  look  intent, 
\nd  C3'e  and  ear  attentive  bent, 
Vnd  locks  flung  back,  and  lips  apart^ 
^ike  monument  of  Grecian  art. 
vrt  listening  mood  she  seemed  to  stand. 
The  guardian  Naiad  of  the  strand. 


Canto  I.    LADY  OF  THE  LAKK  2U 


XVIII. 

And  ne'er  did  Grecian  chisel  trace 

A  Nvmph.  a  Naiad,  or  a  Grace, 

Of  finer  form,  or  lovelier  face  ! 

What  tiiough  the  sun,  with  ardent  frowii, 

Hadsliglitly  tinj^ed  her  cheek  with  brown  — 

The  sportive  toil,  which,  short  and  light. 

Had  died  her  i^lowing  hue  .«-o  bright, 

Served  too  in  hastier  swell  to  show 

Short  ghmpses  of  a  breusl  of  snow ; 

What  though  no  rule  of  courtly  grace 

To  measured  mood  had  trained  lier  pace,— 

A  foot  more  light,  a  step  more  true, 

Ne'er  from  the  heath-flower  dashed  the  dew; 

Cen  the  slight  hare-bell  raised  its  head. 

Elastic  from  her  airy  tread : 

What  though  upon  her  speech  there  hung 

The  accents  of  the  mountain  tongue,— 

Those  silver  sounds  so  soft,  so  dear. 

The  listener  l;cld  his  breath  to  hear 

XIX. 

A  chieftain's  daughter  seemed  the  maid, 
Her  satin  snood,  her  silken  plsid. 
Her  irolden  broach,  such  binh  betrayed. 
And  seldom  was  a  snood  amid 
Such  wild  luxuriant  ringlets  hid. 
Whose  glossy  black  to  shame  might  bring 
The  plumage  of  the  raven's  wing  ; 
And  seldom  o'er  a  breast  so  fair 
Mantled  a  plaid  with  modest  care  ; 
And  never  broach  the  folds  combined 
Above  a  heart  more  good  and  kind. 
Her  kindness  and  her  worth  to  spj, 
You  need  but  o-azc  on  Ellen's  eye  ; 
Not  Katrine,  in  her  mirror  blue, 
Gives  back  the  shan-cry  banks  more  true, 
Tlian  ever}'  free-born  glance  confessed 
The  guileless  movements  of  her  breast , 


Canto  I.  THE  CHASE.  3] 

\Viiether  joy  danced  in  her  dark  eye, 

Or  wo  or  pity  claimed  a  sigh, 

Or  filial  love  was  glowing  tliere, 

Or  meek  devotion  poured  a  prayer. 

Or  tale  of  injury  called  forth 

The  indignant  spirit  of  the  north. 

One  only  passion,  unrevealed, 

With  maiden  pride  the  maid  concealed. 

Yet  not  less  purely  felt  the  flame ; — 

O  need  I  tell  that  passion's  name  I 

XX. 

Impatient  of  the  silent  horn, 
Now  on  the  gale  lier  voice  was  borne : — 
*^  Father  V  she  cried ;  the  rocks  around 
Loved  to  prolong  the  gentle  sound. 
A  while  she  paused,  no  answer  came, — 
'•Malcolm,  was  thine  the  blast?"  The  name 
Less  resolutely  uttered  fell, 
The  echoes  could  not  catch  the  swell. 
'^  A  stranger,  I,"  the  Huntsman  said. 
Advancing  from  the  hazel  shade. 
The  maid  alarmed,  with  hasty  oar. 
Pushed  her  light  shallop  from  the  shore; 
And  when  a  space  was  gained  between. 
Closer  she  drew  her  bosom's  screen; 
(So  forth  the  startled  sv,-an  would  swing. 
So  turn  to  prune  his  ruffled  wing.) 
Then  safe,  though  fluttered  and  amazed. 
She  paused,  and  on  the  stranger  gazed. 
Not  his  the  form,  nor  his  the  eye, 
That  yontliful  maidens  wont  to  fly. 

XXL 

On  his  bold  visage,  middle  atre 
Had  slightly  pressed  its  signet  sagn. 
Vet  had  not  quenched  the  open  trutli, 
And  fiery  vehemence  of  youth  ; 
Forward  and  frolic  glee  was  there, 
The  will  to  do,  the  sou]  in  dare. 


*39  THE  CHASE.  Canto  I 

The  sparkling  glance,  soon  blown  to  fire, 

Of  hasty  love,  or  headlong  ire. 

His  limbs  were  cast  in  manly  mould. 

For  hardy  sports,  or  contest  bold  ; 

And  though  in  peaceful  garb  arrayed. 

And  weaponless,  except  his  blade. 

His  stately  mien  as  well  implied 

A  high-born  heart,  a  martial  pride. 

As  if  a  baron's  crest  he  wore. 

And  sheathed  in  armour  trod  the  shore. 

Slighting  the  petty  need  he  showed. 

He  told  of  his  benighted  road. 

His  ready  speech  flowed  fair  and  free, 

[n  phrase  of  gentlest  courtesy. 

Yet  seemed  that  tone,  and  gesture  bland 

Less  used  to  sue  than  to  command. 

XXII. 

A  while  the  maid  the  stranger  eyed, 
And,  reassured,  at  last  replied. 
That  highland  halls  were  open  still 
To  wildered  wanderers  of  the  hill. 
"  Nor  think  you  unexpected  come 
To  yon  lone  isle,  our  desert  home  : 
Before  the  heath  had  lost  the  dew, 
This  morn  a  couch  was  pulled  for  you ; 
On  yonder  mountain's  purple  head 
Have  ptarmigan  and  heath-cock  bled, 
And  our  broad  nets  have  swept  the  mere, 
To  furrtish  forth  your  evening  cheer." 
**•  Now,  by  the  rood,  my  lovely  maid, 
Your  courtesy  has  erred,"  he  said  ; 
"  No  right  have  I  to  claim,  misplaced. 
The  welcome  of  expected  guest. 
A  wanderer  here,  by  fortune  tost, 
My  way,  my  friends,  my  courser  lost, 
I  ne'er  before,  believe  me,  fair. 
Have  ever  drawn  your  mountain  air. 
Till  on  this  lake's  romantic  strand, 
J^  I  found  a  fay  in  fairy  land/' 


CajUo  I.  THE  CHASF  23 

2.XIU. 

•''  i  well  believe,"  the  maid  replied, 
As  her  light  skiff  approached  the  side, 
•'  I  well  believe,  that  ne'er  before 
Your  foot  has  trod  Loch-Katrine's  shorts 
But  yet,  as  far  as  yesternight. 
Old  Allan-bane  foretold  your  plight,- 
A  gray-haired  sire,  whose  eye  intent 
Was  on  the  visioned  future  bent. 
He  saw  your  steed,  a  dappled  gray, 
Lie  dead  beneath  the  birchen  way  ; 
Painted  exact  your  form  and  mien. 
Your  hunting  suit  of  Lincoln  green. 
That  tasseird  horn  so  gayly  gilt. 
That  falchion's  crooked  blade  and  hilt. 
That  cap  with  heron's  plumage  trim, 
And  yon  two  hounds  so  dark  and  grim. 
He  bade  that  all  should  ready  be. 
To  grace  a  guest  of  fair  degree ; 
But  light  I  held  his  prophecy. 
And  deemed  it  was  my  father's  horn. 
Whose  echoes  o'er  tlie  lake  were  borne."' 

XXIV. 

The  stranger  smiled  : — "  since  to  your  home, 

A  destined  errant  knight  I  come. 

Announced  by  prophet  sooth  and  old. 

Doomed,  doubtless,  for  achievement  bold. 

I'll  lightly  front  each  high  emprize. 

For  one  kind  glance  of  those  bright  eyes ; 

Permit  me,  first,  the  task  to  guide 

Your  fairy  frigate  o'er  the  tide." 

The  maid,  with  smile  suppressed  and  sly 

The  toil  unwonted  saw  him  try ; 

For  seldom,  sure,  if  e'er  before, 

His  noble  hand  had  grasped  an  oar' 

Yet  with  main  strength  his  strokes  he  drew, 

And  o'er  the  lake  the  shallop  tlew  ; 

With  heads  erect,  and  whimpering  cry, 

The  hounds  behind  their  passage  ply. 


24  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.       Canto  1 

Nor  frequent  does  the  bright  oar  break 
The  darkening  mirror  of  tlie  lake. 
Until  the  rocky  isle  they  reach. 
And  moor  their  shallop  on  the  beach. 

XXV. 

The  stranger  Wewcd  tJie  shore  around  : 
'Twas  all  so  close  with  copse-wood  bound. 
Nor  track  nor  pathway  might  declaro 
That  human  foot  frequented  there, 
Until  tlie  mountain-maiden  showed 
A  clambering  unsuspected  road, 
That  winded  through  the  tangled  screen. 
And  opened  on  a  narrow  green. 
Where  weeping  birch  and  willow  round 
With  their  long  fibres  swept  the  ground  ; 
Here,  for  retreat  in  dangerous  iniur. 
Some  clxief  had  framed  a  ru^uc  bowt^r. 

XXVI. 

It  was  a  lodge  of  ample  size. 

But  strange  of  structure  aiid  device ; 

Of  such  materials,  as  around 

The  workman's  hand  had  readiest  found. 

Lopped  of  their  boughs,  their  hoar  Lrunks  barod. 

And  by  liie  hatchet  rudely  squared. 

To  ffive  the  walls  their  destined  height. 

The  sturdy  oak  and  ash  unite; 

While  moss  and  clay  and  leaves  cumbnied 

To  fence  each  crevice  from  tlie  wuid. 

The  lighter  pine-trees,  over-head 

Their  slender  length  fur  rafters  spread  ; 

And  withered  heath  and  rushes  dry 

Supphed  a  russet  canopy. 

Due  westv.-ard,  fronting  to  the  green. 

A  rural  portico  was  seen. 

Aloft  on  native  pillars  borne. 

Of  mountain  fir  wiih  bark  unshorn. 

Where  Eilei/s  hand  had  taught  to  twine 

The  ivy  and  Ida^an  vme. 


Cunto  I.  THE  CHASE.  25 

The  clematis,  the  favoured  flower, 
Which  boasts  the  name  of  virgin-bower 
And  every  hardy  plant  could  bear 
L-och  Katrine's  keen  and  searching  air. 
An  instant  in  this  porch  she  staid, 
And  ^yly  to  the  stranger  said, 
"  On  heaven  and  on  thy  lady  call, 
And  enter  the  enchanted  hall." 

XXV  U. 

"My  hope,  my  heaven,  my  trust  must  bo, 

My  gentle  guide,  in  following  ihee." — 

He  crossed  tlie  thresiiold — and  a  clang 

Of  angry  steel  that  instant  rang. 

To  his  bold  brow  his  spirit  rushed  ; 

But  soon  ibr  vain  alarm  he  blusp.ed, 

When  on  the  floor  lie  saw  displayed, 

Cause  of  the  din,  a  naked  blade 

Dropped  from  the  shoath,  that  careless  flung 

Upon  a  stag's  huire  antlers  swung ; 

For  all  around,  tiie  walls  to  grace, 

Hung  trophies  of  the  fight  or  chase  : 

A  target  there,  a  bugle  here, 

A  batlle-axe,  a  hunting  spear, 

And  broad-swords,  bows,  and  arrows  store. 

With  the  tusked  trophies  of  tiie  boar. 

Here  grins  the  wolf  as  when  he  died  ; 

And  there  the  wild-cat's  brindled  liido 

The  frontlet  of  the  elk  adorns, 

Or  mantles  o'er  the  bison's  horns : 

Pennons  and  flags  defaced  and  stained-. 

That  blackening  streaks  of  blood  retained. 

And  deer-skins,  dapi)led,  dun.  and  white, 

With  otter's  fur  and  seal's  unite, 

[n  rude  and  uncouth  tapestry  all 

To  garni sji  forth  the  sylvan  hall. 

XXVI  i  J. 

The  wondering  stranger  round  him  gazoG 
And  ne.xt  the  fallen  weapon  raised  ; 


26  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      Canto  L 

Few  were  the  arms  whose  sinewy  strcngtli 

Sufficed  to  stretcli  it  forth  at  lenorth. 

And  as  the  brand  lie  poised  and  swayed, 

"  I  never  knew  but  one,"  he  said, 

"  Whose  stalwart  arm  mig-ht  brook  to  wield 

A  blade  like  this  in  battle  field."' 

She  sighed,  then  smiled,  and  took  the  word  ; 

"  You  see  tJie  guardian  chanipion"'s  sword  : 

As  hght  it  trembles  in  his  hand, 

As  in  my  grasp  a  hazel  wand. 

My  sire's  tall  tbmi  might  grace  the  part 

Of  Ferragus,  or  Ascabart ; 

But  in  the  absent  giant's  hold 

Aro  women  now.  and  menials  old."" 

XXLX. 

The  mistress  of  the  mansion  came, 

Mature  of  age,  a  graceful  dame  ; 

Whose  easy  step  and  stately  port 

Had  well  become  a  princely  court, 

To  whom,  though  more  than  kindred  knew 

Young  Ellen  gave  a  mother's  due. 

Meet  welcome  to  her  guest  she  made, 

And  every  courteous  rite  was  paid, 

That  liospitality  could  claim. 

Though  all  unasked  his  birth  and  name. 

Such  then  the  reverence  to  a  guest, 

That  fellest  foe  might  join  the  feast, 

And  from  his  deadliest  foeman's  dooi 

Unquestioned  turn,  the  banquet  o'er. 

At  length  his  rank  the  stranger  names 

The  knight  of  Snowdoun,  James  Filz-Jaxnes 
Lord  of  a  barren  heritage, 
Which  his  brave  sires,  from  age  to  age. 
By  their  good  swords  had  held  with  toil ; 
His  sire  had  fallen  in  such  turmoil. 
And  he,  God  wot,  was  forced  to  stand 
Ofl  for  his  right  with  blade  in  liand. 
This  morning  v»^ith  L.»Kd  Moray's  Iraui 
He  chased  a  stalwart  stag  in  vain. 


CttntoL  THE  CHASE.  27 

Oucstripped  his  comrades,  missed  the  deer 
Lost  his  good  steed,  and  wandered  liere." 

XXX. 

Fain  would  the  luiight  in  turn  require 
Tlie  name  and  state  of  Ellen's  sire  : 
Well  showed  the  elder  lady's  mien. 
That  courts  and  cities  she  had  seen  ; 
^llen,  though  more  her  looks  displayed 
The  simple  grace  of  sylvan  maid, 
In  speech  and  gesture,  form  and  face, 
Showed  she  was  come  of  gentle  race  ; 
'Twere  strange  in  ruder  rank  to  find 
Such  looks,  such  manners,  and  such  mind, 
Each  hint  the  Knight  of  Snowdoun  gave, 
Dame  Margaret  heard  with  silence  grave , 
Or  Ellen,  innocently  gay. 
Turned  all  inquiry  hght  away. 
"  Wierd  women  we  !  by  dale  and  down, 
We  dwell  afar  from  tower  and  town. 
We  stem  the  flood,  we  ride  the  blast, 
On  wandering  knights  our  spells  we  cast ; 
While  viewless  minstrels  touch  the  string, 
'Tis  thus  our  charmed  rhymes  we  sing." 
She  sung,  and  still  a  harp  unseen 
Filled  up  the  symphony  between. 

XXXI. 

SONG. 

oldier,  rest !  thy  warfare  o'er, 

Sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  not  breakini, 
Dream  of  battled  fields  no  more, 

Days  of  danger,  nights  of  waking. 
In  our  isle's  enchanted  hall. 

Hands  unseen  thy  couch  are  strewing, 
Fairy  strains  of  music  fall, 

Every  sense  in  slumber  dewing. 


28  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      Canto  l 

Soldier,  rest !  thy  warfare  o'er, 
Dream  of  fighting  fields  no  more ; 
Sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  not  breaking, 
Morn  of  toil,  nor  night  of  waking. 

No  rude  sound  shall  reach  thine  ear. 

Armour's  clancf,  nor  war-steed  champing, 
Trump  nor  pibroch  summon  here 

Mustering  clan,  nor  squadron  tramping. 
Vet  the  lark's  shrill  fife  may  come 

At  the  daybreak  fi-otn  the  fallow, 
And  the  bittern  sound  his  drum, 

Booming  from  the  sedgy  shallow. 
Ruder  sounds  shall  none  be  near. 
Guards  nor  warders  challenge  here. 
Here's  no  war-steed's  neigh  and  champing 
Shouting  clans  or  squadrons  stamping. 

XXXII. 

She  paused — then,  blushing,  led  the  lay 
To  grace  the  stranger  of  the  day  ; 
Her  mellow  notes  a  while  prolong 
The  cadence  of  the  flowing  song, 
Till  to  her  lips  in  measured  frame 
The  minstrel  verse  spontaneous  came. 

SONG  CONTINUED. 

Huntsman,  rest !  thy  chase  is  done. 

While  our  slumb'rous  spells  assail  ye. 
Dream  not  with  the  rising  sun. 

Bugles  here  shall  sound  reveillie. 
Sleep  1  tjie  deer  is  in  his  den  ; 

Sleep  :  thy  hounds  are  by  thee  lyin;?, 
Sleep  1  nor  dream  in  yonder  glen, 

How  thy  gallant  steed  lay  dying. 
Huntsman,  rest  1  thy  chase  is  done. 
Think  Jiot  of  the  rising  sun. 
For  at  dawning  to  assail  ye. 
Here  no  bugles  sound  reveillie. 


Canto  I.  THE  CHASE.  Uy 

xxxni. 

The  hall  was  cleared — the  stranger's  bed 

Was  there  of  mountain  heather  spread. 

Where  oft  a  hundred  guests  had  lain. 

And  dreamed  their  forest  sports  again. 

But  vainly  did  the  heath-flower  shed 

[ts  moorland  fragrance  round  his  head  ; 

Not  Ellen's  spell  had  lulled  lo  rest 

The  fever  of  his  troubled  breast ; 

In  broken  dreams  the  image  rose 

Of  varied  perils,  pains,  and  woes, 

His  steed  now  flounders  in  the  brake. 

Now  sinks  his  barge  upon  the  lake  ; 

Now  leader  of  a  broken  host, 

His  standard  fails,  his  honour's  lost. 

Then, — from  my  couch  may  heavenly  might. 

Chase  that  worst  phantom  of  the  night  1 — 

Again  returned  the  scenes  of  youth, 

Of  confident  undoubting  truth  ; 

Again  his  soul  he  interchanged 

With  friends  whose  hearts  were  long  estranged. 

They  come,  in  dim  procession  led, 

The  cold,  the  faithless,  and  the  dead  : 

As  warm  each  hand,  each  brow  as  gay. 

As  if  they  parted  yesterday. 

And  doubt  distracts  him  at  the  view, 

O  were  his  senses  false  or  true ! 

Dreamed  he  of  death,  or  broken  vow, 

Or  is  it  all  a  vision  now ! 

XXXIV. 

At  length,  with  Ellen  in  a  grove, 
He  seemed  to  walk  and  speak  of  love. 
She  listened  with  a  blush  and  sigh, 
His  suit  was  wa-rm,  lii?  liopes  wero  high. 
He  sought  her  yielded  hand  to  clasp, 
And  a  cold  gauntlet  met  iiis  grasp  : 
The  phantom's  sex  was  changed  and  gone, 
Upon  its  head  a  helmet  shone  ; 


30  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.       Canto  1 

Slowly  enlarged  to  giant  size, 

With  darkened  clieek  and  threatening  eyes. 

The  gristly  visage,  stern  and  hoar. 

To  Ellen  still  a  likeness  bore. — 

He  woke,  and,  panting  with  affright. 

Recalled  the  vision  ol  the  night ; 

The  earth's  decaying  brands  were  red. 

And  deep  and  dusky  lustre  shed. 

Half  showing,  half  concealing  all 

The  uncouth  trophies  of  the  hall. 

Mid  those  the  stranger  fixed  his  eye 

Where  that  huge  falchion  hung  on  high. 

And  thoughts  on  thoughts,  a  countless  throng 

Rushed,  chasing  countless  thoughts  along. 

Until,  the  giddy  whirl  to  cure, 

He  rose,  and  sought  the  moonshine  pure. 

XXXV. 

The  wild  rose,  eglantine,  and  broom, 

Wasted  around  their  rich  perfume ; 

The  birch-trees  wept  in  fragrant  balm ; 

The  aspens  slept  beneath  the  calm ; 

The  silver  light,  with  quivering  glance. 

Played  on  the  water's  still  expanse ; 

Wild  were  the  heart  whose  passion's  swa> 

Could  rage  beneath  the  sober  ray. 

He  felt  its  calm,  that  warrior  guest, 

While  thus  he  communed  with  liis  breast  •=  .^^^^ 

"  Why  is  it  at  each  turn  I  trace 

Some  memory  of  that  exiled  race  ? 

Can  I  not  mountain-maiden  spy. 

But  she  must  bear  the  Douglas'  eye .' 

Can  I  not  view  a  highland  brand, 

But  it  must  match  the  Douglas"  hand.'' 

Can  I  not  frame  a  fevered  dream, 

But  still  the  Douglas  is  the  theme .' — 

ril  dream  no  more — by  manly  mind 

Not  even  in  sleep  is  will  resigned. 

My  midnight  orison  said  o'er, 

ril  turn  to  rest,  ami  n.^-^oui  xio  more." 


Canto  1.  THE  CHASE.  61 

His  midnight  orison  he  told, 
A  prayer  with  every  bead  of  gold, 
Consigned  to  heaven  his  cares  and  woes. 
And  sunk  in  undisturbed  repose ; 
Until  the  heath-cock  shrilly  crew. 
And  morning  dawned  on  Benvenua 


GKl)  OF  CANTO  FiiiST 


THE 

LABY  OF  THE  hAKE. 

CANTO  SECOND. 

THE    ISLAND. 

I. 

AT  mom  the  black-cock  trims  his  jetty  A'wg. 

'Tis  morning  prompts  the  hnnets  bfitiiest  lay , 
All  nature's  cliildren  feel  the  matin  spring 

Of  life  reviving,  with  reviving  day; 
And  wliile  yon  little  bark  glides  down  the  bay, 

Wafting  the  stranger  on  liis  way  again. 
Morn's  genial  influence  roused  a  minstrel  gray, 

And  sweetly  o'er  the  lake  was  heard  thy  strain, 

Mixed  with  the  sounding  harp,  O  white-haired 
Allan-bane! 

n. 

SONG. 

Not  faster  yonder  rowers'  might 

Flings  from  their  oars  the  spray, 
Not  faster  yonder  rippling  bright, 
That  tracks  the  shallop's  course  in  light, 

Melts  in  the  lake  away, 
Than  men  from  memory  erase 
The  benefits  of  former  days  ; 
Then,  stranger,  go,  good  speed  the  while, 
Nor  think  again  of  the  louelv  isle. 


34  r.ADY  OF  THE  LAKE.     Canto  J\ 

High  place  to  thee  in  royal  court, 

High  place  in  battle  line, 
Good  hawk  and  hound  for  sylvan  sport. 
Where  Beauty  sees  the  brave  resort, 

The  honoured  meed  be  thine. 
True  be  thy  sword,  thy  friend  sincere, 
Thy  lady  constant,  kind  and  dear, 
And  lost  in  love's  and  friendship's  smils, 
Be  memory  of  the  lonely  isle. 

III. 
SONG  CONTINUED. 

But  if  beneath  yon  southern  sky 

A  plaided  si,  anger  roam. 
Whose  drooping  crest  and  stifled  sigh, 
And  sunken  check,  and  heavy  eye, 

Pine  for  his  highland  home  ; 
Then,  warrior,  then  be  thine  to  show 
Tho  care  that  sooths  a  wanderer's  wo ; 
Hemember  then  thy  hap  ere  while 
A  stranger  in  the  lonely  isle. 
Or  if  on  life's  uncertain  main 

Mishap  shall  mar  tliy  sail ; 
If  faithful,  wise,  and  brave  in  vam. 
Wo,  want,  and  exile  thou  sustain 

Beneath  the  fickle  gale  ;  ,l. 

Waste  not  a  sigh  on  fortune  changed,  ^ 

On  thankless  courts,  or  friends  estranged,  \ 

But  come  where  kindred  worth  shall  smilb 
To  greet  thee  in  the  lonely  isle. 

IV. 

As  died  the  sounds  upon  the  tide. 
The  shallop  reached  the  main-land  side. 
And  ere  his  onward  way  he  took. 
The  stranger  cast  a  lingering  look. 
Where  easily  his  eye  might  reach 
The  harper  on  the  islet  beach, 
Reclined  against  a  blighted  tree. 
As  wasted,  gray,  and  worn  as  he. 


Canto  11.  THE  ISLAND.  3S 

To  minstrel  meditation  given, 

His  reverend  brow  was  raised  to  heaven. 

As  from  the  rising  sun  to  claim 

A  sparkle  of  inspiring  tlame ; 

His  hand,  reclined  upon  the  wire, 

Seemed  watching  the  awakening  fire. 

»So  still  he  sate,  as  those  who  wait 

Till  judgment  speak  the  doom  of  fate  ; 

So  still,  as  if  no  breeze  might  darG 

To  lift  one  lock  of  hoary  hair  ; 

So  still,  as  life  itself  were  fled, 

In  the  last  sound  his  harp  had  sped 

V. 

Upon  a  rock  with  lichens  wild, 
Beside  him  Ellen  sat  and  smiled. 
Smiled  she  to  see  the  stately  drake 
Lead  forth  his  fleet  upon  the  lake. 
While  her  vexed  spaniel,  from  the  beach. 
Bayed  at  the  prize  beyond  his  reach ; 
Yet  tell  me  then  the  maid  who  knows. 
Why  deepened  on  iier  cheek  the  rose  ? — 
Forgive,  forgive.  Fidelity  I 
Perchance  the  maiden  smiled  to  see 
Yen  parting  lingerer  wave  adieu. 
And  stop  and  turn  to  wave  anev/  ; 
And,  lovely  ladies,  ere  your  ire 
Condemn  the  heroine  of  my  lyre, 
Show  me  tlie  fair  would  scorn  to  spy 
And  prize  such  conquest  of  her  eye  I 

VL 

While  yet  he  loitered  on  the  spot. 
It  seemed  as  Ellen  marked  him  not , 
But  when  he  turned  him  to  the  glade, 
One  courteous  parting  sign  she  made; 
And  after,  oft  that  Knight  would  say 
That  not  when  prize  of  festal  day 
Was  dealt  him  by  tlie  brightest  fair. 
Who  e'er  wore  jewel  in  her  hair. 


36  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  11. 

So  highly  did  Iiis  bosom  swell, 

As  at  that  simple  mute  farewell. 

Now  with  a  trusty  mountain  gui 

And  his  dark  stag-liounds  by  his  side, 

He  parts — the  maid,  unconscious  still. 

Watched  him  wind  slowly  round  tlie  hil! 

But  when  his  stately  form  was  hid. 

The  guardian  in  her  bosom  chid — 

''Thy  Malcolm  I  vain  and  selfish  maid  T' 

'Twas  thus  upbraiding  conscience  said, 

"  Not  so  had  JNIalcolm  idly  hung 

On  the  smooth  phrase  of  southern  tongue  ; 

"  Not  so  had  Malcolm  strained  liiseyo 

The  step  of  parting  fair  to  spy." — 

"  Wake,  Allan-banc,-''  aloud  she  cried. 

To  the  old  minstrel  by  her  side, 

"  Arouse  thee  from  thy  moody  dream  ! 

I'll  give  thy  harp  lieroic  theme, 

And  warm  thee  with  a  noble  name : 

Pour  forth  the  glory  of  the  GrcBmc.'"'- 

Scarce  from  her  lip  the  word  had  rushed. 

When  deep  the  conscious  maiden  blushed, 

For  of  his  clan,  in  hall  and  bower, 

Young  Malcolm  Gneme  was  held  the  Qowe^ 

VJL 

The  minstrel  waked  his  harp — three  times 
Across  the  well-known  martial  chimes, 
And  thrice  their  high  heroic  pride 
In  melancholy  murmurs  died. 

'' Vainl3^"thou  bidst,  O  noble  maid," 

Clasping  his  withered  hands,  he  said. 

'•'■  Vainly  thou  bidst  me  wake  tlie  strain. 

Though  all  unwont  to  bid  in  v;).in. 

Alas  fthan  mine  a  mightier  iuuid 

Has  tuned  my  harp,  my  strings  has  spanned 

I  touch  the  chords  of  joy,  but  low 

And  mournful  answer  notes  of  wo  ; 

And  the  proud  march  which  victors  tread. 

Sinks  in  the  waihng  for  llie  dead. — 


1 


Canto  II.  THE  ISLAND.  3? 

O  well  for  me,  if  mine  alone 

That  dirge's  deep  prophetic  tone  I 

If,  as  my  tuneful  fathers  said, 

This  harp,  which  erst  Saint  Modan  swayed, 

Can  thus  its  master's  fate  foretell, 

Than  welcome  bo  tlie  minstrel's  knell  I" 

VIII. 

But  ah !  dear  lady,  thus  it  sighed 
The  eve  thy  sainted  motiior  died ; 
And  such  the  sounds  which,  while  I  strove 
To  wake  a  lay  of  war  or  love. 
Came  marring  all  the  festal  mirth, 
Appalling  me  who  gave  them  birth. 
And,  disobedient  to  my  call. 
Wailed  loud  tiirough  Bolhwell's  bannered  halL 
Ere  Douglases,  to  ruin  driven, 
Were  exiled  from  their  native  heaven. — 
Oh  I  if  yet  worse  mishap  and  wo 
My  master's  house  must  undergo. 
Or  aught  but  weai  to  Ellen  fair. 
Brood  in  tliese  accents  of  despair, 
No  future  hard,  sad  harp  !  shall  fling 
Triumph  or  rapture  froni  thy  string; 
One  short,  one  final  strain  shall  flow, 
Fraught  v.ith  unutterable  v/o, 
Then  shivered  shall  thy  fragments  lie, 
Thy  master  cast  him  down  and  die.'- 

IX. 

Soothing  she  answered  him,  "  Assm.^, 

Mine  honoured  friend,  the  fears  of  -ige  ; 

All  melodies  to  thee  are  known, 

That  harp  has  rung,  or  pipe  has  blown, 

In  lowland  vale,  or  highland  glen, 

From  Tweed  to  Spey — what  marvel,  then, 

At  times,  unbidden  notes  should  rise, 

Confusedly  bound  in  memory's  ties. 

Entangling,  as  they  rush  along, 

The  war-march  with  the  funeral  son^. — 


38  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  Vi 

Small  ground  is  now  for  bodincr  fear ; 

Obscure,  but  safe,  we  rest  us  here. 

My  sire,  in  native  virtue  great, 

Resigning  lordship,  lands,  and  state, 

Not  then  to  fortinie  more  resigned. 

Than  yonder  oak  might  give  the  wind  ; 

The  graceful  foliage  storms  may  reave, 

The  noble  stem  they  cannot  grieve. 

For  me," — she  stopped,  and,  looking  round 

Plucked  a  blue  hare-bell  from  the  ground. 

"  For  me,  whose  memory  scarce  conveys 

An  image  of  more  splendid  days, 

This  little  flower,  that  loves  the  lea. 

May  well  my  simple  emblem  be  ; 

It  drinks  heaven's  dew  as  blithe  as  rose 

That  in  the  King's  own  garden  grows- 

And  when  I  place  it  in  my  hair, 

Allan,  a  bard  is  bound  to  swear 

He  ne'er  saw  coronet  so  fair." 

Then  playfully  the  chaplet  wild 

She  wreathed  in  her  dark  locks,  and  smiled 

X. 

flcr  smile,  her  speech,  with  winning  sway 
Wiled  the  old  harper's  mood  away  ; 
With  sucJa  a  look  as  hermits  throw 
When  angels  stoop  to  sooth  their  wo, 
He  gazed  till  fond  regret  and  pride 
Thrilled  to  a  tear,  then  thus  replied  • 
"  Loveliest  and  best  I  thou  little  know'sl 
The  rank,  the  honours  thou  liast  lost ; 
O  might  I  live  to  see  thee  grace. 
In  Scotland's  court,  thy  birth  right  place, 
To  see  my  favourite's  step  advance, 
The  lightest  in  the  courtly  dance. 
The  cause  of  every  gallant's  sigh. 
And  leading  star  of  every  eye. 
And  theme  of  every  minstrel's  art, 
The  Lady  of  the  Bleeding  Heart  1"+ 
t  Tlie  well-known  cognizance  of  the  Douglas  family 


Canto  II.  THE  ISLAND.  3U 

XI. 

''  Gay  dreams  are  these,"  the  maiden  criad 
(Light  was  her  accent,  yet  she  sighed,) 
"  This  mossy  rock,  my  friend,  to  me 
Is  worth  gay  chair  and  canopy  ; 
Nor  would  my  footstep  sptuig  more  gay 
In  courtly  dance  than  bhllie  strathspey ; 
Nor  half  so  pleased  mine  ear  incline 
To  roval  minstrel's  lay  as  thine  : 
And  then  for  suiters  proud  and  high. 
To  bend  before  my  conquering  eye, 
Thou,  flattering  bard,  thyself  wilt  say, 
That  g'iyi  Sir  Roderick  owns  its  sway. 
The  Saxon  scourge,  Clan-Alpine's  pride, 
The  terror  of  Loch  Lomond's  side. 
Would,  at  my  suit,  thou  know'st,  delay 
A  Lennox  foray — for  a  day." 

XII. 

The  ancient  bard  his  glee  repressed : 

"  111  hast  thou  chosen  theme  for  jest ! 

For  who,  through  all  this  western  wild, 

Named  Black  Sir  Roderick  e'er,  and  smiled'' 

In  Holy  Rood  a  knight  he  slew ; 

I  saw,  when  back  the  dirk  he  drew. 

Courtiers  give  place  before  the  stride 

Of  the  undaunted  homicide ; 

And  since,  tliough  outlawed,  hath  his  hard 

i*"'ull  sternly  kept  his  mountain  land. 

Who  else  dare  give, — ah  !  wo  the  day. 

That  I  such  hated  truth  should  say — 

The  Douglas,  like  a  stricken  deer. 

Disowned  by  every  noble  peer, 

Even  the  rude  refuge  we  have  here  ? 

Alas,  this  wild  marauding  chief 

Alone  might  hazard  our  relief. 

And  now  thy  maiden  charms  expand, 

Looks  for  his  guerdon  in  thy  hand; 

Full  soon  may  dispensation  sought. 

To  back  his  suit,  from  Rome  be  brought. 


40  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  IL 

Then,  though  an  exile  on  the  hill, 
Thy  father,  as  the  Douglas  still, 
Be  held  in  reverence  and  fear. 
But  though  to  R.oderick  thou'rt  so  dear, 
That  thou  might'st  guide  with  silken  thread 
Slave  of  thy  will,  this  chieftain  dread  ; 
Yet,  O  loved  maid,  thy  mirth  refrain  1 
Thy  hand  is  on  a  lion's  mane." 

XIII. 

"Minstrel,"  the  maid  replied,  and  high 

Her  father's  soul  glanced  in  her  eye, 

"  My  debts  to  Roderick's  house  I  know  : 

All  that  a  mother  could  bestow, 

To  Lady  Margaret's  care  I  owe. 

Since  first  an  orphan  in  the  wild 

She  sorrowed  o'er  her  sister's  '^liild  ; 

To  her  brave  chieftain  son,  from  ire 

Of  Scotland's  king,  who  shrouds  my  sire, 

A  deeper,  holier  debt  is  owed  ; 

And,  could  I  pay  it  with  my  blood, 

Allan!  Sir  Roderick  should  command 

My  blood,  my  life, — but  not  my  hand. 

Rather  will  Ellen  Douglas  dwell  :f^ 

A  vot'rcss  in  Maronna's  cell ;  fc^ 

Rather  through  realms  beyond  the  sea, 

Seeking  the  world's  cold  charity. 

Where  ne'er  was  spoke  a  Scottish  word, 

And  ne'er  the  name  of  Douglas  heard, 

An  outcast  pilgrim  will  she  rove, 

Than  wed  the  man  she  cannot  love. 

XIV. 

"  Thou  shakcst,  good  friend,  thy  tresses  gray 
That  pleading  look,  what  can  it  say 
But  what  I  own:* — I  grant  him  brave, 
But  wild  as  Bracklinn's  thundering  wave; 
And  generous — save  vindictive  mood, 
Or  jealous  transport  chafe  his  blood : 


KjnrAo  n.  THE  ISLAND. 

',  ^raiit,  him  true  to  friendly  band, 

As  liis  claymore  is  to  his  hand; 

But  O !  tliat  very  blade  of  stcoi 

More  mercy  ibr  a  foe  would  feel : 

I  jrraut  him  liberal,  to  fling 

An>ong  liis  clan  the  wealth  they  brinfp. 

When  back  by  lake  and  glen  they  wind, 

And  in  the  lowland  leave  behind, 

Where  once  some  pleasant  hamlet  stood, 

A  mass  of  ashes  slacked  with  blood. 

The  hand,  that  for  my  father  fought, 

I  lionour  as  his  danghter  ought; 

But  can  I  clasp  it  reeking  red. 

From  peasants  slaughtered  in  their  slied.^ 

No !  v/ildly  while  his  virtues  gleam, 

They  make  his  passions  darker  seem, 

And  flr^sh  along  his  spirit  high, 

Like  hglitning  o'er  the  midnight  sky. 

While  yet  a  child, — and  children  know, 

Instinctive  tauofht,  the  friend  and  t'oe, — 

I  shuddered  at  lus  brow  of  gloom, 

His  shadowy  plaid,  and  sable  plume ; 

A  rnaiden  grown,  I  ill  could  bear 

His  haughty  mien  and  lordly  air ; 

But  if  thou  join'st  a  suitor's  claim, 

in  serious  mood,  to  Roderick's  name, 

I  thrill  with  anguish  I  or,  if  e'er 

A.  Douglas  knew  the  word,  with  fear. 

To  cliange  such  odious  theme  were  best, — 

What  tlunk'st  thou  of  our  stranger  guest?" 

XV. 

"  What  think  I  of  him  ? — wo  the  v.'hile 
That  brought  such  wanderer  to  our  isle ! 
Thy  father's  battle  brand  of  yore 
For  Tyncman  forged  by  fairy  lore. 
What  time  he  leagued,  no  longer  foes. 
His  Border  spears  with  Flotspur's  bowa« 
Did,  self-unscabbarded,  foreshow 
The  footstep  of  a  secret  foe. 


42  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  IL 

If  courtly  spy,  and  harboured  here, 

What  may  wc  for  the  Douglas  fear? 

What  for  this  island  ;  deemed  of  old 

Clan- A  [pine's  last  and  surest  hold  ? 

If  neither  spy  nor  foe,  I  pray 

W^hat  yet  may  jealous  Roderick  say  ?- 

Nay,  wave  not  thy  disdainful  head  1 

Bethink  thee  of  the  discord  dread, 

That  kindled  when  at  Beltane  game 

Thou  led'st  the  dance  with  Malcolm  Grcenie- 

Still,  though  thy  sire  the  peace  renewed. 

Smoulders  in  Roderick's  breast  the  feud  ; 

Beware  1 — But  hark,  what  sounds  are  these '' 

My  dull  ears  catch  no  faltering  breeze. 

No  weeping  birch,  nor  aspens  wake, 

Nor  breath  is  dimpUng  in  the  lake ; 

Still  is  the  canna's*  hoary  beard — 

Yet,  by  my  minstrel  faith,  1  heard — 

And  hark  again  I  some  pipe  of  war 

Sends  the  bold  pibroch  from  afar." 

XVL 

Far  up  the  lengthened  lake  were  spied 

Four  darkening  specks  upon  the  tide, 

That,  slow  enlarging  on  the  view,  % 

Four  manned  and  masted  barges  grew, 

And  bearing  dov.'nwards  from  Glengyle, 

Steered  full  upon  the  lonely  isle ; 

The  point  of  Briuncb.oil  they  passed, 

And  to  the  windward  as  they  cast, 

Against  the  sun  they  gave  to  shine, 

The  bold  Sir  Roderick's  bannered  pine. 

Nearer  and  nearer  as  they  bear, 

Spears,  pikes,  and  axes,  flash  in  air. 

Now  might  you  see  ihe  tartans  brave, 

And  plaids  and  plumage  dance  and  wave  5 

Now  see  the  bonnets  sink  and  lise, 

As  his  tough  oar  the  rower  plies ; 

*  Cotton-grass 


Canto  II.  THE  ISLAND.  43 

See,  flashing  at  each  sturdy  stroke, 

The  wave  ascending  into  smoke  ; 

See  the  proud  pipers  on  the  bow. 

And  mark  the  gaudy  streamers  flovr 

From  their  loud  chanters*  down,  and  sweep 

The  furrowed  bosom  of  tlie  deep, 

As  rushing  through  the  lake,  amain 

They  plied  the  ancient  Highland  strain. 

XVII. 

Ever,  as  on  they  bore,  more  loud 
And  louder  rung  the  pibroch  proud. 
At  first  the  sounds,  by  distance  tame, 
Mellowed  along  the  waters  came, 
And,  lingering  long  by  cape  and  bay 
Wailed  every  harsher  note  away ; 
Then,  bursting  bolder  on  the  ear, 
The  clan's  shrill  Gathering  they  could  hear 
Those  thrilling  sounds,  that  call  the  might 
Of  old  Clan- Alpine  to  the  fight : 
Thick  beat  the  rapid  notes,  as  when 
The  mustering  hundreds  shake  the  glen, 
A.nd  hurrying  at  the  signal  dread, 
The  battered  earth  returns  their  tread ; 
Then  prelude  light,  of  livelier  tone. 
Expressed  their  merry  marching  on. 
E'er  peal  of  closing  battle  rose, 
With  mingled  outcry,  shrieks,  and  blows; 
And  mimic  din  of  stroke  and  ward, 
As  broad-sword  upon  target  jarred ; 
And  groaning  pause,  e'er  yet  again. 
Condensed,  the  battle  yelled  amain  ; 
The  rapid  charge,  the  rallying  shout. 
Retreat  borne  headlong  into  rout ; 
And  bursts  of  triumph,  to  declare 
Clan- Alpine's  conquest — all  v/ere  there. 
Nor  ended  thus  the  strain  ;  but  slov/, 
Sunk  in  a  moan  prolonged  and  low, 

*  Tbe  drone  of  the  bag  pipe. 


44  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.     Canto  11 

And  changed  the  conquering  clarion  swell. 
For  wild  lament  o'er  those  that  fell. 

XVIIL 

The  w  ar-pipes  ceased  ;  but  lake  and  lull 
Were  busy  with  their  echoes  still, 
And  when  they  slept,  a  vocal  strain 
Bade  their  hoarse  chorus  wake  again, 
While  loud  a  hundred  clansmen  raise 
Their  voices  in  their  chief\ain's  praise. 
Eacli  boatman,  bending  to  his  oar, 
With  measured  sweep  the  burthen  bore, 
In  such  wild  cadence,  as  the  breeze 
Makes  through  December's  leafless  trees 
The  chorus  first  could  Allan  know, 
''  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine,  ho  1  iro  l" 
And  near,  and  nearer  as  they  rowed, 
Distinct  the  martial  ditty  flowed. 

XIX. 
BOAT  SONG. 

Hail  to  the  chief  who  in  triumph  advances. 

Honoured  and  blessed  be  the  ever-green  pinel 
Long  may  the  tree  in  his  banner  that  glances, 
Flovirish,  the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line  I 

Heaven  send  it  happy  dew. 

Earth  lend  it  sap  anew, 
Gayly  to  bourgeon,  and  broadly  to  grow, 

"\Vhile  every  highland  glen 

Sends  our  shouts  back  agen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ha  1  ieroe  1" 

Ours  is  no  sapling,  chance-sown  by  the  fountain. 

Blooming  at  BeUane,  iji  winter  to  fide  ; 
When  the  whirlwind  has  stripped  every  leaf  on  tht 

mountain, 
TiKi  more  shall  Clan- Alpine  exult  in  her  shade. 
Moored  in  the  rifted  rock, 
Proof  to  the  tempest's  shock. 


Canto  IL  THE  ISLAND.  45 

Firmer  he  roots  him  the  ruder  it  blow  ; 

Menteith  and  Breadalbane,  then, 

Echo  his  praise  agen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpme  dhu,  ho  !  ieroc  1" 

XX. 

Proudly  our  pibroch  has  thrilled  in  glen  Fruin, 

And  Banochar's  groans  to  our  slogan  replied  ; 
Glen  Ross  and  Ross-dhu,  they  are  smoking  in  rum. 
And  the  best  of  Loch  Lomond  lie  dead  on  her 
side. 
Widow  and  Saxon  maid 
Long  shall  lament  our  raid, 
f  hink  of  Clan-Alpine  with  fear  and  with  wo  ; 
Lennox  and  Leven-glen 
Shake  when  they  hear  agen, 
'  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho  I  ieroe  I" 

Ptow  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  highlan.lsl 

Stretch  to  your  oars,  for  the  ever- green  pine  ? 
O !  that  the  rose-bud  that  graces  yon  island?., 
Were  wreathed  in  a  garland   around  him   io 
twine  I 
O  that  some  seedling  gem, 
Worthy  such  noble  stem. 
Honoured  and  blessed  in  their  shadow  miglit  grtt-^  I 
Loud  should  Clan-Alpine  then 
Ring  from  her  deepmost  glen, 
**  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho  1  ieroe  1" 

XXL 

With  all  her  joyful  female  band 
Had  Lady  Margaret  sought  the  strand. 
Loose  on  the  breeze  their  tresses  flew, 
And  high  their  snowy  arms  they  threw. 
As  echoing  back  with  shrill  acclaim. 
And  chorus  wild,  the  chieftain's  name; 
While,  prompt  to  please,  with  mother's  srt, 
The  darling  passion  of  his  heart. 


46  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  I] 

TIio  Dame  called  Ellen  to  the  strand, 

To  greet  her  kinsman  ere  he  land  : 

"  Come,  loiterer,  come  !  a  Douglas  thou. 

And  shun  to  wreathe  a  victor's  brow  f " 

Reluctantly  and  slow,  the  maid 

The  unwelcome  summoning  obeyed, 

And,  when  a  distant  bugle  rung. 

In  the  mid-path  aside  she  sprung : — 

•'  List,  A.llan-bane  !  From  mainland  cast, 

I  hear  my  father's  signal  blast. 

Be  ours,''  she  cried,  ''  tlie  skifi  to  guide. 

And  wafl  him  from  the  mountain  side.'' 

Then,  like  a  sunbeam,  swift  and  bright. 

She  darted  to  her  shallop  light, 

And,  eagerly  while  Roderick  scanned. 

For  her  dear  form,  his  mother's  baud, 

The  islet  far  behind  her  lay. 

And  she  had  landed  in  the  bay. 

XXII. 

Some  feelings  are  to  mortals  given, 

With  less  of  earth  in  them  than  heaven  , 

And  if  there  be  a  human  teai 

From  passion's  dross  refined  and  cli-ar, 

A  tear  so  limpid  and  so  meek. 

It  would  not  stain  an  aiigel's  cheek, 

'Tis  that  which  pious  fatliers  shed 

Upon  a  duteous  daughter's  head  I 

And  as  the  Douglas  to  his  breast 

His  darling  Ellen  closely  pressed, 

Such  holy  drops  lier  tresses  steep'd. 

Though  'twas  a  hero's  eye  that  wccp'd. 

Nor  while  on  Ellen's  faltering  tongue 

Her  filial  welcomes  crowded  hung. 

Marked  she,  that  fear  (aft'ection's  proof,) 

Still  hoW  a  graceful  youth  aloof; 

No !  not  till  Douglas  named  his  name, 

Altliough  the  youth  was  Malcolm  Griemo 


Canto  II.  THE  ISLAND.  47 

xxni. 

Allan,  with  wistful  look  the  while, 

,'.'urked  Roderick  landing  on  the  isle; 

i  iirf  master  piteously  he  eyed, 

Tlien  gazed  upon  the  chieftain's  pride. 

Then  dashed,  with  hasty  hand,  awa}^, 

i^'rom  his  dimmed  eye  the  gathering  cpray ; 

And  Douglas,  as  his  hand  he  laid 

On  jMalcolm's  shoulder,  kindly  said, 

'•  Canst  thou,  young  friend,  no  meaning  spy 

fn  my  poor  follower's  glistening  eye  ? 

ril  tell  thee  : — he  recalls  the  day, 

\V'hen  in  my  praise  he  led  the  lay 

O'er  the  arched  gate  of  Bothweli  proud. 

While  many  a  minstrel  answered  loud. 

When  Percy's  Norman  pennon,  won 

in  bloody  field,  before  me  shone. 

And  twice  ten  knights,  the  least  a  nam.e 

As  mighty  as  yon  chief  may  claim, 

Gracing  my  pomp,  behind  me  came. 

Yet  trust  me,  Malcolm,  not  so  proud 

Was  I  of  all  that  marshal  crowd. 

Though  the  waned  crescent  owned  my  might. 

And  in  my  train  trooped  lord  and  knight. 

Though  Blantyre  hymned  her  holiest  lays, 

And  Botluvelfs  bards  flung  back  my  praise. 

As  when  this  old  man's  silent  tear. 

And  this  poor  maid's  affection  dear, 

A  welcome  give  more  kind  and  true, 

Than  aught  my  better  fortunes  knew. 

Forgive,  my  friend,  a  father's  boast ; 

O  .  it  outbeggars  all  I  lost  1" 

XXIV. 

Delightful  praise ! — like  summer  rose, 
That  brighter  in  the  dew-drop  glows. 
The  bashful  maiden's  cheek  appeared, 
For  Douglas  spoke,  and  Malcolm  heard. 
The  flush  of  shame-faced  joy  to  hide, 
The  hounds,  the  hawk,  her  cares  divide ; 


48  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  11 

The  loved  caresses  of  the  maid 
The  dogs  with  crouch  and  whimper  paid  ; 
And,  at  her  whistle,  on  herliand 
The  falcon  took  his  favourite  stand, 
Closed  his  dark  wing,  relaxed  his  eye, 
Nor,  thougli  unhooded,  sought  to  fly. 
And  trust,  wliile  in  such  guise  she  stood, 
Like  fabled  Goddess  of  the  Wood, 
That  if  a  father's  partial  tliought 
O'erweiglied  her  worth  and  beaut}'  aught 
Well  might  the  lover's  judgment  fail, 
To  balance  with  a  juster  scale  ; 
For  with  each  secret  glance  he  stoic, 
The  fond  enthusiast  sent  his  soul. 

XXV. 

Of  stature  fair,  and  slender  frame, 

But  firmly  knit,  was  Malcolm  Graeme. 

The  belted  plaid  and  tartan  iiosc 

Did  ne'er  more  graceful  limbs  disclose  ; 

His  flaxen  hair,  of  sunny  hue. 

Curled  closely  round  l;is  bonnet  blue  ; 

Trained  to  the  chase,  his  eagle  eye 

The  ptarmigan  in  snow  couid  spy  ; 

Each  pass,  by  mountain,  lake,  and  heath, 

He  knew,  tlirough  Lennox  and  Menteith; 

Vain  was  the  bound  of  dark-brown  doc. 

When  Malcolm  bent  his  sounding  bow, 

And  scarce  that  doe.  though  wmged  with  fear 

Outstripped  in  speed  the  mountaineer; 

Right  up  Ben-Lomond  could  he  press. 

And  not  a  sob  his  toil  confess. 

His  form  accorded  with  a  mind 

Lively  and  ardent,  frank  and  kind ; 

A  blither  heart,  till  Ellen  came. 

Did  never  love  nor  sorrow  tame  ; 

It  danced  as  lio-htsome  in  his  breast. 

As  played  the  feather  on  his  crest. 

Vet  friends,  who  nearest  knew  the  youth. 

His  s-j'jiT)  of  wronor,  his  zeal  for  trutlj. 


Canto  II.  THE  ISLAND.  49 

And  bards,  who  saw  his  features  bold. 
When  kindled  by  the  tales  of  old, 
Said,  were  that  youth  to  manhood  grown, 
Not  lon^  should  Roderick  Dhu's  renown 
Be  foremost  voiced  by  mountain  fame. 
But  quail  to  that  of  Malcolm  Gr;3Dme. 

XXVI. 

Now  back  they  wend  their  watery  way, 
And,  "  O  my  sire  1"  did  Ellen  say, 
"  Why  urge  thy  chace  so  far  astray? 
And  why  so  late  returned  ?  And  why" — 
The  rest  was  in  her  speaking  eye. 
"My  child,  the  chase  I  follow  far, 
'Tis  mimicry  of  noble  war ; 
And  with  that  gallant  pastime  reft 
W^ere  all  of  Douglas  I  have  lefl.  ^ 
I  met  young  Malcolm  as  I  strayed 
Far  eastward  m  Glenfinlas'  shade 
Nor  strayed  I  safe ;  for,  all  around. 
Hunters  and  horsemen  scoured  the  grourid 
This  youth,  though  still  a  royal  v/aru. 
Risked  life  and  land  to  be  my  guard, 
And  through  the  passes  of  the  wood 
Guided  my  steps,  not  unpursued  ; 
And  Roderick  shall  his  welcome  make, 
Despite  old  spleen,  for  Douglas'  sake. 
Then  nmst  he  seek  Strath  Endrick  glen. 
Nor  peril  aught  for  mo  agen."— 

XXVII. 

Sir  RodericK,  wno  to  meet  them  came, 
Reddened  at  sight  of  Malcolm  Grteme, 
Yet,  nor  in  action,  word,  or  eye. 
Failed  aught  in  hospitality. 
In  talk  and  spoitthey  whiled  away 
The  morning  of  that  summer  day  ; 
But  at  high  noon  a  courier  light 
Held  secret  parley  with  the  knight. 


50  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      Canto  EL 

Whose  moody  aspect  soon  declared. 
That  evil  were  the  nevv's  Ive  heard. 
Deep  thought  seemed  toiling  in  his  head  ; 
Yet  was  the  evening  banquet  made, 
E'er  he  assembled  round  lhe«flame, 
Flis  mother,  Douglas,  and  the  Grcsme, 
And  Ellen  too ;  then  cast  around 
His  eyes,  then  fixed  them  on  tiie  ground. 
As  studying  phrase  that  might  avail 
Best  to  convey  unpleasant  talc. 
Long  with  his  dagger's  hilt  he  played, 
Then  raised  his  haughty  brow,  and  said  : 

XXVIIL 

"  Short  be  my  speech  ; — nor  time  aflbrds. 

Nor  my  plain  temper,  glozing  words. 

Kinsman  and  father,  if  such  name 

Douglas  vouchsafe  to  Roderick's  claim, 

Mine  honoured  mother,  Ellen, — why. 

My  cousin,  turn  away  thine  eye.'* 

.\nd  Grromc,  in  whom  I  hope  to  know 

Pull  soon  a  noble  friend  or  foe, 

tVhen  age  shall  give  thee  thy  command. 

And  leading  in  tiiy  native  land, — 

List  all  I — The  king's  vindictive  pride 

IJoasts  to  have  tamed  the  Border-side, 

Where  chiet?,  with  hound  and  hawk  who  camfe 

To  share  their  monarch's  sylvan  game. 

Themselves  in  bloody  toils  were  snared, 

And  when  the  banquet  they  prepared, 

And  wide  their  loyal  portals  flung, 

O'er  tlieir  own  gateway  struggling  hung. 

Loud  cries  their  blood  from  ^leggat's  mead 

From  Y'arrow  braes,  and  banks  of  Tweed, 

Where  the  lone  streams  of  Ettricke  glide. 

And  from  the  silver  Teviot's  side  ; 

Tlie  dales,  where  martial  clans  did  ride. 

Are  now  one  sheep-v.alk  waste  and  wide. 

This  tyrant  of  the  Scottish  throne, 

So  faithless,  and  so  ruthless  grown, 


Canto  n.  THE  ISLAND. 

Now  hither  comes  ;  his  end  the  same, 

The  same  pretext  of  sylvan  game. 

What  grace  for  Highland  chiefs  judge  ye, 

By  fate  of  Border  chivalry. 

Yet  more  ;  amid  Glenfinlas'  green, 

Douglas,  thy  stately  form  was  seen. 

This  by  espial  sure  I  know : 

Your  counsel  in  the  strait  I  show."" — 

XXIX. 

Ellen  and  Margaret  fearfully 

Sought  comfort  in  each  other  s  eye, 

Then  turned  their  ghastly  look,  each  one. 

This  to  her  sire,  that  to  her  son. 

The  hasty  colour  went  and  came 

.n  the  bold  cheek  of  Malcolm  Graeme ; 

But  from  his  glance,  it  well  appeared, 

'Twas  but  for  Ellen  that  he  feared  ; 

While  sorrowful,  but  undismayed, 

The  Douglas  thus  his  counsel  said : 

'  Brave  Roderick,  though  the  tempest  roar. 

It  may  but  thunder  and  pass  o'er; 

Nor  will  I  Jiere  remain  an  hour,  • 

To  draw  the  lightning  on  thy  bower ; 

For  well  thou  know'st,  at  this  gray  head 

The  royal  bolt  v/ere  fiercest  spcd- 

For  thee,  who,  at  thy  King's  command. 

Canst  aid  him  with  a  gallant  band, 

Submission,  homage,  humbled  pride. 

Shall  turn  the  monarch's  wrath  aside. 

Poor  remnants  of  the  Bleeding  Heart, 

Ellen  and  1,  will  seek,  apart. 

The  refuge  of  some  forest  cell ; 

There,  like  the  hunted  quarry,  dwell. 

Till,  on  the  mountain  and  the  moor, 

The  stern  pursuit  be  passed  and  o'er." — 

XXX. 

**  No,  by  mine  honour,"  Roderick  said, 
"  So  hein  me  heaven,  and  my  good  blade ! 


52  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  II 

No,  never  I  Blasted  he  yon  pine, 
My  father's  ancient  crest,  and  mine, 
If  fiom  its  shade  in  dano:er  part 
The  lineag-e  of  the  Bleeding  Heart  I 
Hear  my  blunt  speech  :  grant  mo  this  maid 
To  wife,  thy  counsel  to  mine  aid  ; 
To  Douglas,  leagued  with  Roderick  Dhu, 
Will  friends  and  allies  flock  enow  ; 
Like  cause  of  doubt,  distrust,  and  grief, 
Will  bind  us  to  each  western  chief. 
When  the  loud  pipes  my  bridal  tell, 
The  Links  of  Forth  shall  hear  the  knell. 
The  guard  shall  start  in  Stirling's  porch; 
And  when  I  light  the  nuptial  torch, 
A  thousand  villages  in  flames, 
Shall  scare  the  slumber  of  King  James  I 
— Nay,  Ellen,  blench  not  thus  away. 
And,  mother,  cease  these  signs,  1  pray ; 
I  meant  not  all  my  heat  might  say. 
Small  need  of  inroad,  or  of  fight, 
VVJicn  the  sage  Douglas  may  unite 
Each  mountam  clan  in  friendly  band, 
To  giftrd  the  passes  of  their  land. 
Till  tho  foiled  King,  from  pathless  glen, 
Shall  bootless  turn  him  home  agon." — 

XXXL 

There  are  who  have,  at  midnight  hour, 
In  slumber  scaled  a  dizzy  tower, 
And,  on  the  verge  that  beetled  o'er 
The  ocean-tide's  incessant  roar, 
Dreamed  calmly  out  thcM*  dangerous  dream 
Till  wakened  by  the  morning  beam ; 
When,  dazzled  by  the  eastern  glow, 
Such  startler  cast  his  glance  below. 
And  saw  unmeasured  depth  around. 
And  heard  unintermitted  sound. 
And  thought  the  battled  fence  so  fraiL 
It  waved  like  cobweb  in  the  gale ; 


Canto  n.  THE  ISLAND.  53 

Amid  his  senses'  giddy  wheel, 

Did  he  not  desperate  impulse  feel, 

Headlong  to  plunge  himself  below. 

And  meet  the  worst  his  fears  foreshow  ? — 

Thus,  Ellen,  dizzy  and  astound. 

As  sudden  ruui  yawned  around. 

By  crossing  terrors  wildly  tossed. 

Still  for  the  Douglas  fearing  most, 

Could  scarce  the  desperate  thought  withstand. 

To  buy  his  safety  with  her  hand. 

XXXII. 

Such  purpose  dread  could  Malcolm  spy 

In  Ellen's  quivering  lip  and  ej'^e, 

And  eager  rose  to  speak — but  e'er 

His  tongue  could  hurry  forth  his  fear. 

Had  Douglas  marked  the  hectic  strife, 

Where  death  seemed  combating  with  life. 

For  to  her  cheek,  in  feverish  flood. 

One  instant  rushed  the  throl>bing  blood, 

Then  ebbing  back,  with  sudden  sway. 

Left  its  domain  as  wan  as  clay. 

"  Roderick,  enough  !  enougli !"  he  cried, 

"My  daughter  cannot  be  thy  bride ; 

Not  that  the  blush  to  wooer  dear. 

Nor  paleness  that  of  maiden  fear. 

It  may  not  be — forgive  her,  chief. 

Nor  hazard  aught  for  our  relief. 

Against  his  sovereign,  Douglas  ne'er 

Will  level  a  rebellious  spear; 

'Twas  I  that  taught  his  youthful  hand 

To  rein  a  steed  and  wield  a  brand. 

I  see  him  yet,  the  princely  boy  I 

Not  Ellen  more  my  pride  and  joy; 

I  love  him  still,  despite  my  wrongs. 

By  hasty  wrath,  and  slanderous  tongues. 

O  seek  the  grace  you  well  may  find. 

Without  a  cause  to  mine  combined." — 


54  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  U. 

XXXIIL 

Twice  through  the  liall  the  Chieftain  strode  ; 

The  waving  of  his  tartans  broad, 
And  darkened  brow,  where  wounded  pnc'f 
With  ire  and  disappointment  vied. 
Seemed,  by  the  torch's  gloomy  hght, 
Like  the  ill  Demon  of  the  night, 
Stooping  liis  pinions'  shadowy  sway 
Upon  the  nighted  pilgrim's  way  : 
But,  unrequited  love  !  thy  dart 
Plunged  deepest  its  envenomed  smart ; 
And  Roderick,  with  thine  anguish  stung, 
At  length  the  hand  of  Douglas  wrung, 
Wlrile  eyes,  that  mocked  at  tears  before. 
With  bitter  drops  were  running  o'er. 
The  death-pangs  of  long-cherished  hope 
Scarce  in  that  ample  breast  had  scope, 
But,  struggling  with  his  spirit  proud, 
Convulsive  heaved  its  checkered  shroud  ; 
While  evciy  sob — so  mute  were  all— 
W^as  heard  distinctly  through  the  hall. 
The  son's  despair,  the  mother's  look, 
111  might  the  gentle  Ellen  brook ; 
She  rose,  and  to  her  side  tiiere  came, 
To  aid  lier  parting  steps,  the  Gramme. 

XXXIV. 

Then  Roderick  from  the  Douglas  broke — 

As  flashes  flame  through  sable  smoke, 

Kindling  its  wreaths,  long,  dark,  and  low. 

To  one  broad  blaze  of  ruddy  glow, 

So  the  deep  anguish  of  despair 

Burst,  in  fierce  jealousy,  to  air — 

With  stalwart  grasp  liis  hand  lie  laid 

On  Malcolm's  breast  and  belted  plaid  : 

''  Back,  beardless  boy  !"  he  sternly  said, 

"  Rack,  mkiion  1  hold'sl  thou  thus  at  nouglv 

The  lesson  I  so  lately  taught.^ 

This  roof,  the  Douglas,  and  that  maid, 

Thank  thou  for  punishment  delayed  ' 


Canto  n.  THE  ISLAND  55 

Eager  as  greyliound  on  his  game, 

Fiercely  with  Roderick  grappled  Graeme 

■'  Perish  my  name,  if  aught  afford 

Its  chieftain's  safety,  save  his  sword !" 

Thus  as  they  strove,  their  desperate  hand 

Griped  to  the  dagger  or  the  brand. 

And  death  had  been — But  Douglas  rose. 

And  thrust  between  the  struggling  foes 

His  giant  strength  : — ^"  Chieftains,  forego 

I  hold  the  first  who  strikes  my  foe. — 

Madmen,  forbear  your  frantic  jar  ! 

What!  is  the  Douglas  fallen  so  far, 

His  daughter's  hand  is  deemed  the  spoil 

Of  such  dishonourable  broil !" — 

Sullen  and  slowly,  they  unclasp, 

As  struck  with  shame,  their  desperate  grasp 

And  each  upon  his  rival  glared. 

With  foot  advanced,  and  blade  half  bared. 

XXXV. 

Ere  yet  the  brands  aloft  were  flung, 
Margaret  on  Roderick's  mantle  hung, 
And  Malcolm  heard  his  Ellen's  scream, 
As  faltered  through  terrific  dream. 
Then  Roderick  plunged  in  sheath  his  sword 
And  veiled  his  wrath  in  scornful  word. 
•'  Rest  safe  till  morning;  pity  'twere 
Such  cheek  should  feel  the  midnight  air ! 
Then  mayest  thou  to  .Tames  Stuart  tell, 
Roderick  will  keep  the  lake  and  fell, 
N'or  lackey,  with  his  free-born  clan. 
The  pageant  pomp  of  earthly  man. 
More  would  he  of  Clan-Alpine  know. 
Thou  canst  our  strength  and  passes  show. — 
Malise ,  what  ho  1" — his  hench-man  came  ; 
"  Give  our  safe  conduct  to  the  Graime." 
Young  Malcolm  answered,  calm  and  bold. 
"■  Fear  nothing  for  thy  favourite  hold. 
The  spot,  an  angel  deigned  to  grace, 
Is  blessed,  though  robbers  haunt  the  places 


55  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.     Canto  [1. 

Thy  churlisli  courtesy  for  those 
Reserve,  who  fear  to  be  tliy  foes. 
As  safe  to  me  the  mountain  way 
At  midnight  as  in  blaze  of  day, 
Though,  with  his  boldest  at  liis  back. 
Even  Roderick  Dhu  beset  the  track.— 
Brave  Douglas, — lovely  Ellen, — Nay. 
Nought  here  of  parting  will  1  say. 
Earth  does  not  hold  a  lonesome  glen. 
So  secret,  but  we  meet  agen. — 
Chieftam  I  we  too  shall  find  an  hour," 
He  said,  and  'eft  the  sylvan  bower. 

XXXVI. 

Old  Allan  followed  to  the  strand, 

(Such  was  the  Douglas's  command,) 

And  anxious  told,  how,  on  the  morn. 

The  stern  Sir  Roderick  deep  i:ad  sworn. 

The  Fiery  Cross  shouid  i-irclt^  u  er 

Dale,  glen,  and  valley,  down,  ai;d  uvior 

xMuch  wore  the  peril  to  '.lio  (Irn.Mne, 

From  tljoso  who  to  the  signal  canni ; 

Far  up  the  lake  'twere  safest  iaiul 

Himself  would  row  him  to  the  strand. 

He  gave  his  counsel  to  the  wind, 

While  Malcolm  did,  unheeding,  bind. 

Round  dirk  and  pouch  and  broad-sword  rollc^i 

His  ample  plaid  in  tightened  fold. 

And  stripped  his  limbs  to  such  array, 

As  best  might  suit  the  watery  way. 

xxxvn. 

Then  spoke  abrupt ;  "  Farewell  to  thee. 
Pattern  of  old  fidelity  !" 
The  minstrers  hand  he  kindly  pressed, — 
•"  O  could  I  point  a  place  of  rest  I 
My  sovereign  holds  in  ward  my  land. 
My  uncle  leads  my  vassal  band  ; 
To  tame  his  foes,  his  friends  to  aid. 
Poor  i\Ialcolm  has  but  heart  and  blade. 


Canto  11.  THE  ISLAND.  ^ 

Yet,  if  there  be  one  faithful  Greeme, 
Who  loves  the  chieftain  of  his  name, 
Not  long  shall  honoured  Douglas  dwell. 
Like  hunted  stag,  in  mountain  cell  ; 
Nor,  ere  yon  pride-swollen  robber  dare, — 
I  may  not  give  the  rest  to  air  1 — 
Tell  Roderick  Dh.u,  I  owed  him  nought, 
Not  the  poor  service  of  a  boat, 
To  waft  me  to  yon  mountain  side." — 
Then  plunged  he  in  the  flashing  tide» 
Bold  o'er  the  flood  his  head  he  bore, 
And  stoutly  steered  him  from  the  shorf 
And  Allan  strained  his  anxious  eye, 
Far  mid  tlie  lake  his  form  to  spy, 
Dakening  across  each  puny  wave, 
To  which  the  moon  her  silver  gave. 
Fast  as  the  cormorant  could  skim. 
The  swimmer  plied  each  active  limb  : 
Then,  landing  ki  the  moonlight  dell, 
Loud  shouted  of  his  weal  to  tell. 
The  minstrel  heard  the  far  halloo. 
And  joyful  from  the  shore  Vv'ithdrew. 


END  OF  CANTO  SECOWDi 


THE 

LAPY  OF  THE  i..4M:il« 

CANTO  THIRD. 
TJIfi    GA'l'HEKrNG. 


TIME  rolls  his  ceaseless  course.     The  race  of  yo. 

Who  danced  our  infancy  upon  their  knee, 
And  told  our  marvelling  boyhood  legends  store. 

Of  their  strange  ventures  liappM  by  land  or  sea 
How  they  are  blotted  from  the  things  that  be  1 

How  few,  all  weak  and  withered  of  their  force 
Wait,  on  the  verge  of  dark  eternity, 

Like  stranded  wrecks,  the  tide  returning  hoarse. 
To  sv/eep  them  from  our  sight !    Time  rolls  his- 

ceaseless  course. 
Vet  live  there  still  who  can  rem.ember  well. 

How,  when  a  mountain  chief  his  bugle  blew. 
Both  field  and  forest,  dingle,  cliff,  and  dell, 

And  solitary  heath,  the  signal  knew  ; 
And  fast  the  faithful  clan  around  him  drew, 

What  time  the  warning  note  was  keenly  wound 
What  time  aloft  their  kindred  banner  Hew. 

While  clamorous  v/ar-pipes  yelled  the  gathering 
sound, 
And  wliile  the  Fiery  Cross  glanced,  like  a  meteor 
round 

n. 

The  summer  dawn's  reflected  hue 

To  purple  changed  Loch  Katrine  blue ; 


OO  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Caulo  III. 

I'^ildly  and  soft  the  western  breeze  ;. 

Tust  kissed  the  lake,  just  stirred  tiie  trees. 
And  tlie  pleased  lake,  like  maiden  coy, 
rremb'.3d,but  dimpled  not  for  joy  : 
Tlic  mountain  shadows  on  her  breast 
^Vere  neither  broken  nor  at  rest ; 
In  bright  uncertainty  thoy  lie, 
k.  ike  future  joys  to  fancy's  eye. 
The  water  lily  to  the  liirht 
Her  chalice  oped  of  silver  bright; 
The  doe  awoke,  and  to  the  lawn, 
Ik^gcnimed  with  dew-drops,  led  her  fiw 
The  gray  mist  left  the  mountain  side, 
Tii*}  torrent  showed  its  glistening  priJu  > 
Invisible  in  flecked  sky, 
The  lark  sent  down  iicr  revelry  ; 
The  black-bird  and  the  speckled  thrus)« 
Good-morro-^'  ^a  -e  from  brake  and  buK 
In  answer  cooed  tho  cushat  dove, 
Her  notes  of  peo^t;,  u.n(i  re^t,  and  lov  &. 

Xo  thought  of  peace,  ro  Ihcight  of  rest 
Assuaged  the  storm  in  Roderick's  breaai 
Willi  sheathed  broadsword  m  his  huiiu, 
Abrupt  he  paced  the  islet  strand. 
And  eyed  the  rising  sun,  aim  laid 
His  hand  on  liis  impatient  blade. 
Beneath  a  rock,  his  vassal's  care 
Was  prompt  the  ritual  to  prepare, 
With  deep  and  dcathful  meaning  traujb 
For  such  antiquity  had  taught 
Was  preface  meet,  ere  yet  abroad 
The  Cross  of  Fire  should  take  its  road. 
The  shrinking  band  stood  oft  aghast 
At  the  impatient  glance  he  cast ; — 
Such  glance  the  mountain  eagle  throw 
As,  from  the  cUlTs  of  Benvenue, 
She  spread  her  dark  sails  on  the  wind, 
And,  high  in  middle  hea\en  reclmod. 


Canto  IIL     THE  GATHERING.  61 

With  her  dark  shadow  on  the  lake, 
Silenced  tlie  warblers  of  tlie  brake. 

IV. 

A  heap  of  withered  boughs  were  piled, 

or  juniper  and  row.an  wild, 

iNlingled  with  shivers  from  the  oak 

Rent  by  tiie  lightning's  recent  stroke. 

Brian,  the  hermit,  by  it  stood, 

Bare-footed,  in  his  frock  and  hood  ; 

His  grisled  beard  and  matted  hair 

Obscured  a  visage  of  despair  : 

His  naked  arms  and  legs.,  seamed  o'er, 

The  scars  of  frantic  penance  bore. 

That  Monk,  of  savage  form  and  face. 

The  impending  danger  of  his  race 

Had  drawn  from  deepest  solitude, 

Far  in  Benlnrrow's  bosom  rude. 

Not  his  the  mien  of  Christian  priest, 

But  druids,  from  the  grave  released. 

Whose  hardened  heart  and  eye  might  brook 

On  human  sacrifice  to  look. 

And  much  'twas  said,  of  heathen  lore 

Mixed  in  the  charms  he  muttered  o'er 

The  hallowed  creed  gave  only  worse 

And  deadlier  emphasis  of  curse. 

No  peasant  sought  that  hermit's  prayer, 

His  cave  the  pilgrim  shunned  with  care ; 

The  eager  liuntsman  knew  his  bound, 

And  in  mid  chase  called  off  his  hound  ♦ 

Or  if,  in  lonely  gien  or  strath. 

The  desert-dweller  met  his  path, 

He  prayed,  and  signed  the  cross  between. 

While  terror  took  devotion's  mien. 

V. 

Of  Brian's  birth  strange  tales  were  told. 
His  mother  watched  a  midnight  fold. 
Built  deep  within  a  dreary  glen, 
Where  scattered  lay  the  bones  of  men, 


62  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canio  III 

In  some  forgotten  battle  slain, 

And  bleached  by  drifting  wind  and  rain. 

It  might  have  tamed  a  warrior's  heart, 

To  view  such  mockery  of  his  art : 

The  knot-grass  fettered  there  the  hand, 

Which  once  could  burst  an  iron  band; 

Beneath  the  broad  and  ample  bone, 

That  bucklered  heart  to  lear  unknown, 

A  feeble  and  a  timorous  guest, 

The  field-fare  framed  her  lowly  nest ; 

There  the  slow  blind-worm  left  his  slime 

On  the  fleet  limbs  that  mocked  at  lime; 

And  there,  too,  lay  the  leader's  skull. 

Still  wreathed  withchaplet  flushed  and  full 

For  heath-bell,  with  her  purple  bloom. 

Supplied  the  bonnet  and  the  plume. 

All  night,  in  this  sad  glen,  the  maid 

Sate  shrouded  in  her  mantle's  shade : 

She  said,  no  shepherd  sought  her  side 

No  hunter's  hand  her  snood  untied, 

Yet  ne'er  again  to  braid  her  hair 

The  virgin  snood  did  Alice  v.ear; 

Gone  was  her  maiden  glee  and  sport, 

Her  maiden  girdle  all  too  short. 

Nor  sought  she  from  that  fatal  night. 

Or  holy  church  or  blessed  rite. 

But  locked  her  secret  in  her  breast.. 

And  died  in  travail,  unconfessed. 

VI. 

Alone,  among  his  young  compeers, 
\\'as  Brian  from  his  infant  years  ; 
A  moody  and  heart-broken  boy. 
Estranged  from  sympathy  and  joy. 
Bearing  each  taunt  with  careless  longm 
On  his  mysterious  lineage  flung. 
Whole  nights  he  spent  by  moonlight  palt, 
To  wood  and  stream  his  hap  to  wail. 
Till,  frantic,  he  as  truth  received 
What  of  his  birth  the  crowd  believed, 


Canto  m.      THE  GATHERING.  63 

And  sought,  in  mist  and  meteor  fire, 

To  meet  and  know  his  Phantom  Sire ! 

In  vain,  to  sooth  his  wayward  fate, 

The  cloister  oped  her  pitying  gate  ; 

In  vain,  the  learning  of  the  age 

Unclasped  the  sable-lettered  page ; 

Even  in  its  treasures  he  could  find 

Food  for  the  fever  of  his  mind. 

Eager  he  read  whatever  tells 

Of  magic,  cabala,  and  spells, 

And  every  dark  pursuit  allied 

To  curious  and  presumptuous  pride. 

Till,  with  fired  brain  and  nerves  overstrung, 

And  heart  with  mystic  horrors  wrung. 

Desperate  he  sought  Benharrow's  den, 

And  hid  him  from  the  haunts  of  men. 

VII. 

The  desert  gave  him  visions  wild. 
Such  as  might  suit  the  Spectre's  child  . 
Where  with  black  cliffs  the  torrents  toil, 
He  watched  the  wheeling  eddies  boil. 
Till,  from  their  foam,  his  dazzled  eyes 
Beheld  the  river-demon  rise  ; 
Tiie  mountain  mist  took  form  and  limb. 
Of  noontide  hag,  or  gobhn  grim  ; 
The  midnight  wind  came  wild  and  dread. 
Swelled  with  the  voices  of  the  dead ; 
Far  on  the  future  battle-heath 
His  eye  beheld  the  ranks  of  death. 
Thus  the  lone  Seer,  from  mankind  hurled, 
Shaped  forth  a  disembodied  world. 
One  lingering  sympathy  of  mind 
Still  bound  him  to  the  mortal  kind; 
The  only  parent  he  could  claim 
Of  ancient  Alpine's  lineage  came. 
Late  had  he  heard,  in  prophet's  dream. 
The  fatal  Ben-Shie's  boding  scream ; 
Sounds,  too,  had  come  in  midnight  blast, 
Of  charging  steeds  careering  fast 


G4  LADY  OF  THi:  LAKE.    Caiito  IIL 

Along  Benharrow's  shingly  side, 

Where  mortal  horseman  ne'er  might  ride  : 

The  thunder,  too,  had  split  tlie  pine, — 

All  augur'd  ill  to  Alpine's  line. 

He  girt  his  loins,  and  came  to  show 

The  signals  of  impending  wo. 

And  ROW  stood  prompt  to  bless  or  ban, 

\s  bade  the  Chieftain  of  his  clan. 

VIII. 

'Twas  all  prepared ; — and  from  the  rock, 
A  goat,  the  patriarch  of  the  flock, 
Before  the  kindling  pile  was  laid, 
And  pierced  by  Roderick's  ready  blade. 
Patient  the  sickening  victim  eyed 
The  life-blood  ebb  in  crimson  tide, 
Down  his  clogged  beard  and  shaggy  limb. 
Till  darkness  glazed  his  eye-balls  dim. 
Tlie  grisly  priest,  with  murmuring  prayer, 
A  slender  crosslet  framed  with  care, 
A  cubit's  length  in  measure  due ; 
The  shaft  and  limb  were  rods  of  yew. 
Whose  parents  in  Inch-Cailliach  wave 
Their  shadows  o'er  Clan-Alpine's  grave, 
And,  answering  Lomond's  breezes  deep. 
Sooth  many  a  chieftain's  endless  sleep. 
The  Cross,  thus  formed,  lie  held  on  liiglj. 
With  wasted  hand  and  hagard  eye, 
And  strange  and  mingled  feelings  woke. 
While  his  anathema  he  spoke. 

IX. 

•'  Wo  to  the  clansman,  who  shall  view 
Tliis  symbol  of  sepulchral  yew. 
Forgetful  that  its  branches  grev/ 
Where  weep  the  heavens  their  holiest  dow 

On  Alpine's  dwelling  low  I 
Deserter  of  his  chieftain's  trust. 
He  ne'er  shall  mingle  with  their  dust. 


Canto  in.      THE  GATHERING.  fi5 

But  fioni  his  sires  and  kindred  thrust, 
Each  clansman's  execration  just 

Shall  doom  him  wrath  and  wo.'" 
He  paused  ; — the  word  the  vassals  took. 
With  forward  step  and  fiery  look, 
On  high  their  naked  brands  they  shook. 
Their  clattering  targets  wildly  strook  ; 

And  first,  in  murmur  low, 
Then,  like  the  billow  in  its  course, 
That  fiir  to  seaward  finds  his  source. 
And  flings  to  shore  his  mustered  fierce, 
Burst,  with  loud  roar,  their  answer  hoarso, 

"  Wo  to  the  traitor,  wo  1'' 
Ben-an"s  gray  scalp  the  accents  knew, 
Tiie  joyous  wolf  from  covert  drew, 
The  exulting  eagle  screamed  afar, — 
They  knew  the  voice  of  Alpine's  war. 

X. 

The  shout  was  hushed  on  lake  and  fell. 
The  monk  resumed  his  muttered  spell. 
Dismal  and  low  its  accents  came. 
The  while  he  scathed  the  Cross  with  flamo 
And  the  few  words  that  reached  the  air. 
Although  the  holiest  name  was  there. 
Had  more  of  blasphemy  than  prayer. 
But  when  he  shook  above  the  crowd 
Its  kindled  points,  he  spoke  aloud  : — 
"  Wo  to  the  wretch,  who  fails  to  rear 
At  this  dread  sign  the  ready  spear  1 
For,  as  the  llames  thi^  symbol  sear, 
His  homo,  the  refuge  of  his  fear, 

A  kindred  fate  shall  know ; 
Far  o'er  its  roof  the  volumed  flame 
Clan- Alpine's  vengeance  shall  proclainij 
While  maids  and  matrons  on  his  name 
Shall  call  down  wretcliedness  and  shame. 

And  infamy  and  wo."' — 

Then  rose  the  cry  of  females,  shrill 

As  goss-hawks  whistle  on  the  hill, 

E 


66  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  111 

Denouncing  misery  and  ill, 

Mingled  with  cliiluliood's  babbling  trill 

Of  curses  stammered  slow  ; 
Answering,  with  imprecation  dread, 
"  Sunk  be  his  home  in  embers  red ; 
And  cursed  be  the  meanest  shed 
That  e'er  shall  hide  the  houseless  head, 

We  doom  to  want  and  wo  I'' 
A  sharp  and  shrieking  echo  gave, 
Goir-Uriskin,  thy  goblin  cave  I 
And  the  irray  pass  whcns  birches  wave, 

On  Beala-nam-bo. 

XL 

Then  deeper  paused  the  priest  anew. 
And  hard  his  labouring  breath  he  drew. 
While,  with  set  teeth,  and  clenched  hand. 
And  eyes  tliat  glowed  like  fiery  brand. 
He  meditated  curse  more  dread. 
And  deadlier,  on  the  clansman's  head. 
Who,  summoned  to  his  Chieftain's  nid. 
The  signal  saw  and  disobeyed. 
The  crosslefs  points  of  sparkHng  wood. 
He  quenched  among  the  bubbling  blood. 
And,  as  again  the  sign  he  reared, 
Hollow  ajid  hoarse  his  voice  was  heard  : 
'•'■  When  flits  this  Cross  from  man  to  man. 
Vich-Alpine's  summons  to  his  clan, 
Burst  he  the  ear  that  fails  to  heed'. 
Palsied  the  foot  that  shuns  to  speed  1 
May  ravens  tear  the  careless  eyes. 
Wolves  make  the  coward  heart  their  prize  ! 
As  sinks  that  blood-stream  in  the  earth. 
So  may  his  heart's-blood  drench  his  heartlil 
As  dies  in  hissing  gore  the  spark. 
Quench  thou  his  light,  Destruction  dark! 
And  be  the  grace  to  him  denied. 
Brought  by  tliis  sign  to  all  beside '." — 
He  ceased  :  no  echo  gave  agen 
Tlie  murmur  of  the  deep  Amen. 


Canto  III.     THE  GATHERING. 

XII. 

Then  Roderick,  with  impatient  look. 
From  Brian's  hand  the  symbol  took : 
"Speed,  Malise,  speed  1"  he  said,  and  gave 
The  crosslet  to  his  liench-man  brave. 
"  The  muster-place  be  Lanric  mead — 
Instant  the  time — speed,  Malise,  speed  !" 
Like  heath-bird,  when  the  hawks  pursue, 
A  barge  across  Loch- Katrine  flew  ; 
High  stood  the  hench-man  on  the  prow. 
So  rapidly  the  barge-men  row, 
The  bubbles,  where  they  launched  the  boat 
Were  all  unbroken  and  afloat, 
Dancing  in  foam  and  ripple  still. 
When  it  had  neared  the  mainland  hill : 
And  from  the  silver  beach's  side 
Still  was  the  prow  three  tathom  wide, 
When  lightly  bounded  to  the  land. 
The  messenger  of  blood  and  brand. 

XIIL 

Speed,  Malise,  speed !  the  dun  deer's  hide 
On  fleeter  foot  was  never  tied. 
Speed,  Malise,  speed  1  such  cause  of  haste 
Thine  active  sinews  never  braced. 
Bend  'gainst  the  steepy  hill  thy  breast, 
Burst  down  like  torrent  from  its  crest; 
With  short  and  springing  footstep  pass 
The  trembling  bog  and  false  morass ; 
Across  the  brook  like  roe-buck  bound. 
And  thread  the  break  like  questing  hound  ; 
The  crag  is  high,  the  scaur  is  deep. 
Yet  shrink  not  from  the  desperate  leap  ; 
Parched  are  t!iy  burning  lips  and  brcv/, 
Yet  by  the  fountain  pause  not  now  ^ 
Herald  of  battle,  fate,  and  fear. 
Stretch  onward  in  thy  fleet  career  I 
The  wounded  hind  thou  track'st  not  now, 
Pursuest  not  maid  through  greenwood  houga, 


68  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  III 

Nor  pliost  thou  now  thy  flying  pace 
With  rivals  in  the  mountain  race  ; 
{Jul  clanger,  death  and  warrior  deed, 
Are  Hi  thy  course — Speed,  Mahsc,  speed ! 

XIV. 

Fast  as  tlie  fatal  symbol  flies, 
Jii  arms  tlio  huts  and  hamlets  rise ; 
From  winding  glen,  from  upland  brown 
They  poured  each  hardy  tenant  down. 
Nor  slacked  the  messenger  his  pace ; 
He  showed  tlie  sign,  he  named  the  place, 
And,  pressing  forward  like  the  wind, 
Left  clamour  and  surprise  behind. 
The  fisherman  forsook  the  strand, 
T.'ie  swarthy  smith  took  dirk  and  brand; 
With  changed  clieer,  the  mower  blithe 
Left  in  the  half-cut  swathe  his  scythe  ; 
The  herds  without  a  keeper  strayed, 
The  plough  was  in  mid-furrow  stayed, 
TJie  falc'ner  tossed  his  hawk  away 
The  hunter  left  the  stag  at  bay  ; 
Prompt  at  the  signal  of  alarms, 
F]ach  son  of  Alpine  rushed  to  arms; 
So  swept  the  tumult  and  affray 
Along  the  margin  of  Achray. 
Alas,  thou  lovely  lake  1  that  e'er 
Thy  banks  should  echo  sounds  of  fear . 
The  rocks,  tlie  bosky  thickets,  sleep 
So  stilly  on  thy  bosom  deep. 
The  lark's  blithe  carol  from  the  cloud, 
^eems  for  the  scene  too  gayly  loud. 

XV. 

Speed,  Malise,  speed  I  the  lake  is  past, 
Duncraggan's  huts  appear  at  last. 
And  peep,  like  moss-grown  rocks,  half  seen, 
Half  hidden  in  the  copse  so  green  ; 
There  may'st  thou  rest,  thy  labour  done, 
Their  lord  shall  speed  the  signal  on. — 


Canto  III.      THE  GATHERING.  CO 

As  stoops  the  hawk  upon  his  prey. 
The  hench-man  shot  him  down  the  way 
What  woful  accents  load  tlie  gale  ? 
Tlie  funeral  yell,  the  female  wail  1-  - 
A  gallant  hunter's  sport  is  o'er, 
A  valiant  warrior  fights  no  more. 
Who,  in  the  battle  or  the  chase, 
At  Roderick's  side  shall  fill  his  place  '- 
Within  the  hall,  where  torches'  ray 
Supply  the  excluded  beams  of  day, 
Lies  Duncan  on  his  lowly  bier, 
And  o'er  him  streams  his  widow's  tear. 
His  stripling  son  stands  mournful  by, 
His  youngest  weeps,  but  knows  not  why ' 
The  village  maids  and  matrons  round 
The  dismal  coronach*  resound. 


XVI. 
CORONACH. 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain, 

He  is  lost  to  the  forest. 
Like  a  summer-dried  fountain. 

When  our  need  was  the  sorest. 
The  font,  reappearing, 

From  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering, 

To  Duncan  no  morrow  I 

The  hand  of  the  reaper 

Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 

Wails  manhood  in  glory  ; 
The  autumn  v/inds  rushing 

Waft  the  leaves  that  are  searest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing. 

When  blighting  was  nearest. 

*FuiieraI  Song.     See  Nolo, 


70  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE    Canto  III, 

Fleet  foot  on  the  correi,* 

Sage  counsel  encumber, 
Red  hand  in  the  foray, 

How  sound  is  thy  slumber  ! 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain. 

Like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain, 

Thou  art  gone,  and  for  ever  I 

xvn. 

See  Stumah,t  who,  the  bier  beside, 
His  master's  corpse  with  wonder  eyed, 
Poor  Stumah  !  whom  his  least  halloo 
Could  send  like  lightning  o'er  the  dew. 
Bristles  his  crest,  and  points  his  ears. 
As  if  some  stranger  step  he  hears. 
'Tis  not  a  mourner's  muffled  tread. 
Who  comes  to  sorrow  o'er  the  dead. 
But  headlong  haste  or  deadly  fear, 
L^rge  the  precipitate  career. 
All  stand  aghast : — unheeding  all, 
The  hench-man  bursts  into  the  hall ; 
Before  the  dead  man's  bier  he  stood. 
Held  forth  the  Cross  besmeared  with  blood : 
"  The  muster-place  be  Lanric  mead  ; 
Speed  forth  the  signal  I  clansmen,  speed !" 

xvnL 

Angus,  the  heir  of  Duncan's  line, 
Sprung  forth  and  seized  the  fatal  sign. 
In  haste  the  stripling  to  his  side 
His  father's  dirk  and  broad-sword  tied 
But  when  he  saw  his  mother's  eye 
Watch  him  in  speechless  agony, 
Back  to  her  opened  arms  he  flew, 
Pressed  on  her  lips  a  fond  adieu — 

*  Or  corri.    The  hollow  side  of  the  hill,  where  psnw 
jsually  lie*. 
t  "Fiiitlijul,     The  name  of  h  dop. 


CamoIII.      THE  GArHEIllNG. 

"  Alas  I"  she  sobbed. — "  and  yet  be  gone, 

And  speed  thee  forth,  Uke  Duncan's  son  1'" 

One  look  he  cast  upon  the  bier, 

Dashed  from  his  eye  tlie  gathering  tear, 

Breatlied  deep,  to  clear  his  labouring  breast, 

And  toss\l  aloft,  his  bonnet  crest. 

Then,  like  the  high-bred  colt  when  freed 

First  he  essays  his  fire  and  speed. 

He  vanished,  and  o'er  rnoor  and  moss 

Sped  forward  with  the  Fiery  Cross. 

Susperded  was  the  widow's  tear, 

While  yet  his  footsteps  she  could  hear ; 

And  when  she  marked  the  hench-man's  eye 

Wet  with  unwonted  sympathy, 

'•  Kinsman,'-  slie  said, ''  his  race  is  run, 

That  should  have  sped  thine  errand  on ; 

The  oak  has  fallen, — the  saplmg  bough 

Is  all  Duncraggan's  shelter  now. 

Yet  trust  1  v/eli,  his  duty  done. 

The  orphan's  God  will  guard  my  son. — 

And  you,  in  many  a  danger  true. 

At  Duncan's  best  your  blades  that  drew, 

To  arms,  and  guard  that  orphan's  head  1 

Let  babes  and  women  wail  the  dead." 

Then  weapon  clang,  and  martial  call. 

Resounded  through  the  funeral  hali, 

Wliile  from  the  walls  the  attendant  band 

Snatched  sword  and  targe,  with  hurried  hand 

And  short  and  flitting  energy 

Glanced  from  Uie  niuurner's  sunken  eye. 

As  if  the  sounas  t^-  'varrior  dear 

Might  rouse  her  Duncan  from  his  bier; 

Bat  faded  soon  that  borrowed  force ; 

Grief  claimed  his  right,  and  tears  their  course 

XIX. 

Benledi  saw  Uae  Cross  of  Fire, 
It  glanced  like  hghtning  up  Strath- Ire. 
O'er  dale  and  hill  the  summons  flew. 
Nor  rest  nor  pause  young  Angus  knew ; 


72  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canto  IIL 

The  tear,  that  gathered  in  his  eye, 

He  left  the  mountain  breeze  to  dry  ; 

Until,  where  Teith's  young  waters  roll, 

Betwixt  him  and  a  wooden  knoll, 

That  graced  the  sable  strath  with  green, 

The  chapel  of  Saint  Bride  was  seen. 

Swoln  was  the  stream,  remote  the  bridge, 

But  Angus  paused  not  on  the  edge  ; 

Though  the  dark  waves  danced  dizzily. 

Though  reeled  his  sympathetic  eye. 

He  dashed  amid  the  torrent's  roar; 

His  right  hand  high  the  crosslet  bore, 

His  left  the  pole-axe  grasped,  to  guide 

And  stay  his  footing  in  the  tide. 

Fie  stumbled  twice — the  foam  splashed  high 

With  hoarser  swell  the  stream  raced  by ; 

And  had  he  fallen, — for  ever  there. 

Farewell  Duncraggan's  orphan  heir  1 

But  still,  as  if  in  parting  life. 

Firmer  he  grasped  the  Cross  of  strife, 

Until  the  opposmg  bank  he  gained. 

And  up  the  chapel  pathway  strained. 

XX. 

A  blithsome  rout,  that  morning  tide. 
Had  sought  the  chapel  of  Saint  Bride. 
Her  troth  Tombea's  Mary  gave 
To  Norman,  heir  of  Armandave, 
And,  issuing  from  the  Gothic  arch, 
The  bridal  now  resumed  their  march. 
In  rude,  but  glad  procession,  came 
Bonneted  sire  and  coif-clad  dame  ; 
And  plaided  youth,  with  jest  and  jeer, 
Which  snooded  maiden  would  not  hear  ; 
And  children,  that,  unwitting  v\'hy,^ 
Lent  the  gay  shout  their  shrilly  cry;'" 
And  minstrels,  that  in  measures  vied 
Before  the  young  and  bonny  bride, 
Whose  downcast  eve  and  cheek  disclose 
The  tear  and  blush  of  morning  rose. 


Canto  m.     THE  GATHERING. 

With  virgin  step,  and  bashful  hand, 
She  held  the  kerchief's  snowy  band ; 
The  g-allant  bridegroom,  by  her  side, 
Beheld  liis  prize  with  victor's  pride, 
And  the  glad  mother  in  her  car 
Was  closely  whispering  word  of  cheer 

XXI. 

Who  meets  them  at  the  cliurchj^ard  gate 

The  messenger  of  fear  and  fate  1 

Haste  in  his  hurried  accent  lies, 

And  grief  is  swimming  in  his  eyes. 

All  dripping  from  the  recent  flood, 

Panting  and  travel-soiled  he  stood, 

The  tlital  sign  of  fire  and  sword 

Held  forth,  and  spoke  the  appointed  word  t 

■'  The  mustering  place  is  lianric  mead. 

Speed  forth  the  signal  1  Norman,  speed  !"— 

And  must  hfi^ihange  so  soon  the  handj_ 

Just  linked  to  his  by  holy  band. 

For  the  fell  Cross  of  blood  and  brand  ? 

And  must  the  day,  so  bhthe  that  rose, 

And  promised  rapture  in  the  close, 

Before  its  setting  hour,  divide 

The  bridegroom  from  the  plighted  bride r 

O  fatal  doom  ! — it  must !  it  must ! 

Clan  Alpine's  cause,  her  chieftain's  trust. 

Her  summons  dread  brooks  no  delay  ; 

Stretch  to  the  race — away  !  away  f 

XXII. 

Vet  slow  he  laid  his  plaid  aside, 

And,  lingering,  eyed  his  lovely  bride, 

Until  he  saw  the  starting  tear 

Speak  wo  he  mignt  not  stop  to  cheer ; 

Then  trusting  not  a  second  look, 

In  haste  he  sped  him  up  the  brook, 

Nor  backward  glanced  till  on  the  heath 

Wnprr  Lubnaig's  lake  supplies  the  Teitiv»-~ 


74  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  HI 

What  in  the  racer's  bosom  stirre,d  ? — 
The  sickening  pang"  of  hope  deierred, 
An-d  memory,  with  a  torturing  train 
Of  all  his  morning  visions  vain, 
Mingled  with  love's  impatience,  came 
The  manly  thirst  for  martial  fame ; 
The  stormy  joy  of  mountaineers, 
Ere  yet  they  rush  upon  the  spears  ; 
And  zeal  for  clan  and  chieflpin  burnrig, 
And  hope,  from  well-fought  field  returning. 
With  war's  red  honours  on  liis  crest, 
I'o  clasp  his  Mary  to  his  breast. 
Stung  by  such  tiioughts,  o'er  bank  and  brae. 
I.,ike  fire  from  flint  he  glanced  away, 
While  high  resolve,  and  feeling  strong, 
Burst  into  voluntary  song. 

xxin. 

SONG. 

The  heath  this  night  must  be  my  bed 
The  bracken*  curtain  for  my  head. 
My  lullaby  the  warder's  tread, 

Far,  "far  from  love  and  thee,  Mary. 
To-morrow  eve,  more  stilly  laid. 
My  couch  may  be  my  bloody  plaid. 
My  vesper  song,  thy  wail,  sweet  maid  I 

It  will  Bot  waken  nie,  Mary  I 

1  may  not,  dare  not,  fancy  now 

The  grief  that  clouds  thy  lovely  brow 

I  dare  not  think  upon  thy  vow. 

And  all  it  promised  me,  Mary. 
No  fond  regret  must  Norman  know ; 
When  bursts  Clan-Alpine  on  the  foe, 
His  heart  must  be  like  bended  bov/. 

His  foot  like  arrow  free,  Mary. 

/f.-rtV'-w— Fern. 


(} 


Canto  m.    THE  GATHERLNG. 

A  time  will  come  with  feeling  fraught  I 
For,  if  I  fall  in  battle  fought, 
Thy  hapless  lover's  dying  thought 

Siiall  be  a  thought  on  thee,  Mary 
And  if  returned  from  conquered  foes, 
How  blithely  will  the  evening  close, 
How  sweet  the  linnet  sing  repose. 

To  my  young  bride  and  me,  Mary  '. 

XXIV. 

N^ot  faster  o'er  thy  heathery  braes, 
Balquidder,  speeds  the  midnight  blaze, 
Rushing,  in  conflagration  strong. 
Thy  deep  ravines  and  dells  along, 
Wrapping  thy  cliffs  in  purple  glow, 
And  reddening  the  dark  lakes  below  ; 
Nor  faster  speeds  it,  nor  so  far, 
As  o'er  thy  heaths  the  voice  of  war. 
The  signal  roused  to  martial  coU 
The  sullen  margin  of  Loch-Voil, 
Waked  still  Loch-Doine,  and  to  the  source 
Alarmed,  Balvaig,  thy  swampy  course  ; 
Thence  southward  turned  its  rapid  road 
Adown  Strath-Gartney's  valley  broad. 
Till  rase  in  arms  each  man  might  claim 
A  portion  in  Clan- Alpine's  name  ; 
From  the  sfray  sire,  whose  trembling  hand 
Could  hardly  buckle  on  his  brand, 
To  the  raw  boy,  whose  shaft  and  bow 
Were  yet  scarce  terror  to  the  crow. 
Each  valley,  each  sequestered  glen, 
Mustered  its  little  horde  of  men, 
That  mot  as  torrents  from  the  height 
In  Highland  date  their  streams  unite, 
Still  gathering,  as  they  pour  along, 
A  voice  more  loud,  a  tide  more  strong, 
Till  at  the  rendezvous  they  stood 
By  hundreds,  prompt  for  blows  and  blood; 
Each  trained  to  arms  since  life  began, 
Owing  no  tie  but  to  his  clan. 


76  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canto  ID. 

No  oath,  but  by  his  chieftain's  hand, 
No  law,  but  Roderick  Dhu's  command. 

XXV. 

That  summer  morn  had  Roderick  Dhu 
Surveyed  the  skirts  of  Benvenue, 
And  sent  his  scouts  o'er  hill  and  heath, 
To  view  the  frontiers  of  Menteith. 
All  backward  came  with  news  of  truce ; 
Still  lay  each  martial  Gramme  and  Bruce, 
[n  Rednock  courts  no  horsemen  wait. 
No  banner  waved  on  Cardross  gate 
On  Duchray's  towers  no  beacon  shone, 
Nor  scared  the  herons  from  Loch-Con  ; 
All  seemed  at  peace. — Now,  wot  ye  why 
The  Chieftain,  with  such  anxious  eye. 
Ere  to  the  muster  he  repair. 
This  western  frontier  scann'd  with  care  .'— 
In  Benvenue's  most  darksome  cleft, 
A  fair,  though  cruel,  pledge  was  left ; 
For  Douglas,  to  his  promise  true, 
That  morning  from  the  isle  withdrew, 
And  in  a  deep  sequestered  dell 
Had  sought  a  low  and  lonely  cell. 
By  many  a  bard,  in  Celtic  tongue, 
Has  Coir-nan-Uriskin  been  sung  ; 
A  softer  name  the  Saxons  gave, 
And  called  the  grot  the  Gobhn-cave. 

cr-  XXVI. 

It  was  a  wild  and  strange  retreat, 
As  e'er  was  trod  by  outlaw's  feet. 
The  dell,  upon  the  mountain's  crest. 
Yawned  like  a  srash  on  warrior's  breast ; 
Its  trench  had  stayed  full  many  a  rock, 
Flurled  by  primeval  earthquake  shock 
From  Benvenue's  gray  summit  wild, 
And  here,  in  random  ruin  piled. 
They  frowned  incumbent  o'er  the  spot. 
And  formed  tlie  rugged  sylvan  grot. 


Canto  111.      THE  GATIJJIRING.  77 

The  oak  and  birch,  with  mingled  shade 
At  noontide  there  a  twihght  made, 
Unless  when  short  and  sudden  shone 
Some  straggl'mg  beam  on  clill'  or  stone. 
With  such  a^ glimpse  as  prophet's  eye 
Gains  on  thy  depth,  Futurity. 
No  murmur  waked  the  solemn  still, 
Save  tinkling  of  a  fountain  nil ; 
But  when  tlie  wind  chafed  with  the  lake, 
A  sullen  sound  would  upward  break, 
With  dashing  hollow  voice,  that  spoke 
The  incessant  war  of  wave  and  rock. 
Suspended  cliffs,  with  hideous  sway. 
Seemed  nodding  o'er  the  cavern  gray. 
From  such  a  den  the  wolf  had  sprung, 
In  such  the  wild  cat  leaves  her  young ; 
Yet  Douglas  and  his  daughter  fair, 
Sought,  for  a  space,  their  safety  there. 
Gray  Superstition's  whisper  dread 
Debarred  the  spot  to  vulgar  tread ; 
For  there,  she  said,  did  fays  resort. 
And  satyrs*  hold  their  sylvan  court, 
By  moonlight  tread  tiieir  mystic  maze, 
And  blast  the  rash  beholder's  gaze. 

XXVII. 

Now  eve,  with  western  shadows  long. 
Floated  on  Katrine  bright  and  strong, 
When  Roderick,  with  a  chosen  few, 
Repassed  the  heights  of  Benvenue. 
Above  the  Goblin-cave  they  go. 
Through  the  wild  pass  of  Beal-nam-Bo ; 
The  prompt  retainers  speed  before. 
To  launch  the  shallop  from  the  shore. 
For  cross  Loch-Katrine  lies  his  way 
To  view  the  passes  of  Achray, 
And  place  his  clansmen  in  array. 
Yet  lags  the  Chief  in  musing  mind, 
Unwonted  sight,  his  men  behind. 

*  The  [frisk,  or  highland  satyr.    See  Note. 


?3  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.  Canto  III 

A  single  page,  to  bear  his  sword, 

Alone  attended  on  his  lord ; 

The  rest  their  way  through  thickets  break, 

And  soon  await  him  by  the  lake. 

It  was  a  fair  and  gallant  sight, 

To  view  them  from  the  neighbouring  hci;;ht 

By  the  low-levelled  sunbeam's  light; 

For  strength  and  stature,  from  the  clan 

Each  warrior  was  a  chosen  man, 

As  even  afar  might  well  be  seen. 

By  their  proud  step  and  martial  mien. 

Their  feathers  dance,  their  tartans  float, 

Their  targets  gleam,  as  by  the  boat 

A  wild  and  warlike  groupe  they  stand, 

That  well  became  such  mountain  strand. 

XXVIII. 

Their  chief  with  step  reluctant  still, 
Was  lingering  on  the  craggy  hill, 
Hard  by  where  turned  apart  the  road 
To  Douglas's  obscure  abode. 
It  was  but  with  thai  dawning  mom 
That  Roderick  Dhu  had  proudly  sworn, 
To  drown  his  love  in  war's  wild  roar. 
Nor  think  of  Ellen  Douglas  more  ; 
But  he  who  stems  a  stream  with  sand. 
And  fetters  flame  with  flaxen  band. 
Has  yet  a  harder  task  to  prove — 
By  firm  resolve  to  conquer  love  I 
Eve  finds  the  chief,  like  restless  ghost, 
Still  hovering  near  his  treasure  lost ; 
For  though  his  haughty  heart  deny 
A  parting  meeting  to  his  eye. 
Still  fondly  strains  his  anxious  ear. 
The  accents  of  her  voice  to  hear. 
And  inly  did  he  curse  the  breeze 
That  waked  to  sound  the  rustling  trees. 
But  hark  1  what  nnngles  in  the  strain  •• 
It  is  the  harp  of  Allan-bane, 


Canto  m.     THE  GATHERLNG.  79 

Tliat  wakes  its  measures  slow  and  high. 
Attuned  to  sacred  minstrelsy. 
What  melting  voice  attends  the  strings? 
Tis  Ellen,  or  an  angel,  sings. 

XXIX. 
HYMN  TO  THE  VIRGIN. 

4ve  Maria  !  maiden  mild  i 

Listen  to  a  maiden's  prayer ; 
Thou  canst  hear,  thouo-h  from  the  wild ; 

Thou  canst  save  amid  despair. 
Safe  may  we  sleep  beneath  thy  care. 

Though  banished,  outcast,  and  reviled — 
Maiden  !  hear  a  maiden's  prayer. 

Mother  I  hear  a  suppliant  child  ! 

Ave  Maria 

Ave  Maria  I  undefiled  ! 

The  flinty  couch  we  now  must  share, 
Shall  seem  with  down  of  eider  piled. 

If  thy  protection  hover  there. 
The  murky  cavern's  heavy  air 

Shall  breathe  of  balm  if  thou  hast  smiled ; 
Then,  Maiden  I  hear  a  maiden's  prayer, 

Mother,  list  a  suppliant  child  I 

Ave  Mnna 

Ave  Maria  I  stainless  styled  . 

Foul  demons  of  the  earth  and  air 
From  this  their  wonted  haunt  exiled, 

Shall  flee  before  thy  presence  fair. 
We  bow  us  to  our  lot  of  care, 

Beneath  thy  guidance  reconciled; 
Hear  for  a  maid  a  maiden's  prayer, 

And  for  a  father  hear  a  child  I 

Ave  Mana 

XXX. 

Oied  on  the  harp  the  closing  hynui 
tinmoved  in  attitude  and  limb. 


80  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   C:iu\n  fll 

As  listening  still,  Clan-Alpine's  lord 
Stood  leading  on  his  heavy  sword, 
Until  the  page,  witii  iiumble  sign, 
Twice  pointed  to  the  sun's  decline  ; 
Then,  while  his  plaid  he  round  him  cast; 
"It  is  the  last  time — "tis  the  last," — 
He  muttered  thrice, — '•  tlie  last  time  e'er 
That  angel  voice  shall  Roderick  liear  1" 
It  was  a  goading  thought — his  stride 
Hied  hastier  down  the  mountain  side  ; 
Sullen  he  fiung  him  in  the  boat, 
And  instant  cross  tlie  lake  it  shot. 
They  landed  in  that  silvery  bay,    . 
And  eastward  held  their  hasty  \\iiy, 
Till  with  the  latest  beams  of  ligiit. 
The  band  arrived  on  Lanric  height, 
Where  mustered  in  the  vale  below, 
Clan-Alpine's  men  in  martial  show. 

XXXI. 

A  various  scene  the  clansmen  made, 

Some  sate,  some  stood,  some  slowly  strayed 

But  most,  with  mantles  folded  round, 

Were  couched  to  rest  upon  the  ground, 

Scarce  to  be  known  by  curious  eye, 

From  the  deep  heather  where  they  lie. 

So  well  was  matched  the  tartan  screen 

With  heath-bell  dark  and  brackens  green  ; 

Unless  wliere,  here  and  there,  a  biade, 

Or  lance's  point,  a  glimmer  made, 

Like  glowworm  twmkling  through  the  shade 

But,  when,  advancing  through  the  gloom. 

They  saw  the  Ciiiefiain's  eagle  plume. 

Their  shout  of  welcome,  shrill  and  wide, 

Shook  the  steep  mountain's  steady  side. 

Thrice  it  arose,  and  lake  and  fell 

Three  times  returned  the  martial  yell. 

It  died  upon  Bochastle's  plain, 

And  ■si'encft  claimed  her  evcnmg  rei^. 

END  OF  CANTO  THIRD.  ~ 


THE 
LABY  OF  TMH  I^AWWl. 

CANTO  FOURTH.  ,N^ 
THE    PROPHECY. 

I. 

"THE  rose  is  fairest  when  'tis  budding  new. 
And  hope  is  brightest  when  it  dawns  from  fears 

The  rose  is  sweetest  washed  with  morning  dew, 
And  love  is  loveliest  when  embalmed  in  tears. 

O  wilding  rose,  whom  fancy  thus  endears, 
I  bid  your  blossoms  in  my  bonnet  wave, 

Emblem  of  hope  and  love  through  future  years!' 
Thus  spoke  young  Norman,  heir  of  Armandave 
What  time  the  sun  arose  on  Vennachar's  broad 
wave. 

II. 

i'Juch  fond  conceit,  half  said  half  sung, 
Love  prompted  to  the  bridegroom's  tongue  ; 
All  while  he  stripped  the  wild-rose  spray. 
His  axe  and  bow  beside  him  lay, 
For  on  a  pass  'twixt  lake  and  wood. 
A  wakeful  sentinel  he  stood. 
Hark  ! — on  the  rock  a  footstep  rung 
Antl  instant  to  his  arms  he  sprung. 
"  Stand,  or  thou  diest  1 — What,  Malise  ? — soon 
Art  thou  returned  from  Braes  of  Doune. 
By  thy  keen  step  and  glance  I  know, 
Thou  bring'st  us  tidings  of  the  foe."— 
(For  while  the  Fiery  Cross  hied  on. 
On  distant  scout  ha'd  Mahse  gone.) 
F 


82  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  IV 

**  Where  sleeps  the  Chief.-"'  the  licncliinan  said, 
"  Apart,  ill  yonder  misty  glade  ; 
To  his  ione  couch  ril  be  your  guide." 
Then  called  a  slumberer  by  his  side, 
And  stirred  him  with  his  slackened  bow — 
"  Up,  up,  Glentarlvin  '.  rouse  thee,  ho  I 
We  seek  the  Chieftain  ;  on  the  track 
eep  eagle-watch  till  I  come  Dack." 

in.        ^ 

1  osfctlier  up  the  pass  they  sped  : 

"What  of  the  foemen,"  Norman  said — 

"  Varying  reports  from  near  and  far  ; 

This  certain, — that  a  band  of  war 

Has  for  two  days  been  ready  boune. 

At  prompt  command,  to  march  from  Doune  ; 

King  James,  the  while,  with  princely  powers. 

Holds  revelry  in  Stirling  towers. 

Soon  will  this  dark  and  gathering  cloud 

Speak  on  our  glens  in  thunder  loud. 

Inured  to  bide  such  bitter  bout. 

The  warrior's  plaid  may  bear  it  out ; 

But,  Norman,  how  wilt  thou  ])rovide 

A  shelter  for  thy  bonny  bride.'" — 

"Whatl  knowye  not'that  Roderick's  care 

To  the  lone  isle  hath  caused  repair 

Each  maid  and  matron  of  the  clan. 

And  every  child  and  aged  man 

Unfit  for  arms:"  and  given  his  charge, 

Nor  skift'nor  >?hallop,  boat  nor  barge. 

Upon  these  lakes  shall  float  at  largo. 

But  all  beside  the  islet  moor, 

Tliat  such  dear  pledge  may  rest  secure-' '' 

IV. 

"  'Tis  well  advised — the  Chieftain's  plan 
Bespeaks  the  father  of  his  clan. 
But  wherefore  sleeps  Sir  Roderick  Dhu 
Apart  from  all  hi.>j  followor.'^  true'" 


Canto  IV.       THE  PROPHECY.  83 

"  It  is,  because  last  evening-tide, 

Brian  an  augury  had  tried, 

■  r  that  dread  kind  which  must  not  b3 

I  ulesti  in  dread  extremity, 

The  Taighairm  called  ;  by  wliich,  afar, 

O'lr  sirrs  foresaw  the  events  of  war. 

Duncraggan's  milk-white  bull  they  slew.'  — 

MALTSE. 

"  Ah  !  well  the  gallant  brute  1  knew  i 
The  choicest  of  the  prey  we  had. 
When  swept  our  merry-men  Gallangad. 
His  hide  was  snow,  his  horns  were  dark. 
His  red  eye  glowed  like  fiery  spark ; 
So  fierce,  so  tameless,  and  so  fleet, 
Sore  did  lie  cumber  our  retreat, 
And  kept  our  stoutest  kernes  in  awe, 
Even  at  the  pass  of  Beal  'maha. 
But  steep  and  flinty  was  tlie  road, 
And  sharp  the  hurrying  pikeman's  goad, 
And  when  we  came  to  Deunan's  Row, 
A  child  min-ht  scatheless  stroke  his  brow." 


''  NORMAN. 

**  That  bull  was  slain  :  his  reeking  liido 
They  stretched  the  cataract  beside, 
Wiiose  waters  their  wild  tumult  toss 
Adown  the  black  and  craggy  boss 
Of  that  huge  cliff",  whose  ample  verge 
Tradition  calls  the  Hero's  Targe. 
Couch'd  on  a  shelve  beneath  its  brink, 
Close  where  the  thundering  torrents  sink, 
Rocking  beneath  their  headlong  sway, 
And  drizzled  by  the  ceaseless  spray. 
Midst  groan  of  rock,  and  roar  of  stream, 
The  wizard  waits  prophetic  dream. 
Nor  distant  rests  the  Chief: — but  hush  I 
See,  gliding  slow  through  mist  and  bush, 


84  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  iV 

The  hermit  gains  yon  rock,  and  stands 

To  gaze  upon  our  slumbering  bands. 

Seems  he  not,  Malise,  like  a  ghost, 

That  hovers  o'er  a  slaughtered  host  1 

Or  raven  on  the  blasted  oak, 

That,  watching  while  the  deer  is  broke,* 

His  morsel  claims  with  sullen  croak  ?" — 

— ''  Peace  I  peace  !  to  other  than  to  me. 

Thy  words  were  evil  augury  ; 

But  still  1  hold  Sir  Roderick's  blade 

Clan  Alpine's  omen  and  her  aid. 

Not  aught  that,  gleaned  from  heaven  or  hel 

Yon  fiend-begotten  monk  can  tell. 

The  Chieftain  joins  him,  see — and  now, 

Together  they  de;fcend  the  brow." — 

VL 
And,  as  tjiey  came,  with  Alpine's  lord 
The  hermit'Monk  held  solemn  word  : 
"  Roderick  !  it  is  a  fearful  strife, 
For  man  endowed  with  mortal  hfe. 
Whose  shroud  of  sentient  clay  can  still 
Feel  feverish  pang  and  fainting  chill, 
Whose  eye  can  stare  in  stony  trance, 
Whose  hair  can  rouse  like  warrior's  lance.— 
'Tis  hard  for  such  to  view,  unfurled, 
The  curtain  of  the  future  world 
Yet,  witness  every  quaking  limL, 
My  sunken  pulse,  mine  eyeballs  dim. 
My  soul  with  harrowing  anguish  torn, 
This  for  my  chieftain  have  I  borne  1 — 
The  shapes  that  sought  my  fearful  couch, 
A  human  tongue  may  ne'er  avouch  ; 
No  mortal  man, — save  he,  who,  bred 
Between  the  living  and  the  dead, 
Is  gifted  beyond  nature's  law, — 
Had  e'er  survived  to  say  he  saw. 
At  length  the  fatal  answer  came, 
In  characters  of  living  flame  ' 

*  Quartered.    Sec  Note. 


Canto  IV.      THE  PROPHECY.  85 

Not  spoke  in  word,  nor  blazed  in  scroll. 
But  borne  and  branded  on  my  soul  •, — 
Which  spills  the  foremost  foeman's  life. 
That  party  conquers  in  the  strife." 

VTT.      \i- 

"■  Thanks,  Brian,  for  thy  zeal  and  care  I 
Good  is  tliine  augury,  and  fair. 
Clan- Alpine,  ne'er  in  battle  stood. 
But  first  our  broad-swords  tasted  blood. 
A  surer  victim  still  I  know, 
Self-ofFerod  to  the  auspicious  blow ; 
A  spy  hath  sought  my  land  tliis  morn, 

No  eve  shall  witness  his  return!  _  

My  followers  guard  each  pass's  mouth, 
To  east,  to  westward,  and  to  south; 
Red  Murdoch,  bribed  to  be  his  guide, 
Has  charge  to  lead  his  steps  aside, 
Till,  in  deep  path  or  dingle  brown, 
He  light  on  those  shall  bring  him  down. — 
But  see,  who  comes  his  news  to  show  I 
Malise  I  what  tidings  of  the  foe  ?" 

VIII. 

"  At  Doune,  o'er  many  a  spear  and  glaive, 

Two  barons  proud  their  banners  wave. 

1  saw  the  Moray's  silver  star, 

And  marked  the  sable  pale  of  Mar." — 

'  By  Alpine's  soul,  high  tidings  those ! 

I  love  to  hear  of  wortliy  foes. 

When  move  they  on  ?" — ''  To-morrow's  noon 

Will  see  them  here  for  battle  boune." — 

"  Then  shall  it  see  a  meeting  stern  I- 

But,  for  the  place — say,  couldst  thou  learn 

Nought  of  the  friendly  clans  of  Earn? 

Strengthened  by  them  we  well  might  bide 

The  battle  on  Benledi's  side. — 

Thou  couldst  not? — well !  Clan- Alpine's  men 

Shall  man  the  Trosach's  shaggy  gien  ; 


S6  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canio  IV 

Within  Loch- Katrine's  gorge  we'll  fight, 
All  hi  our  maids'  and  niiilrons'  sight, 
Each  for  his  hearth  and  household  fire, 
Father  for  child,  an^I  ,-;on  for  sire. 
Lover  for  maid  beloved  1 — but  why- 
Is  it  the  breeze  affects  mine  eye  ? 
Or  dost  thou  come,  ill-omened  tear  ! 
A  messenger  of  doubt  or  fear  ? 
No  I  sooner  may  the  Saxon  lance 
Unfix  Benlcdi  from  his  stance, 
Than  doubt  or  terror  can  pierce  through 
The  unyielding  heart  of  Roderick  Dim ; 
'Tis  stubborn  as  his  trusty  targe. — 
Each  to  his  post  1 — all  know  their  charge." — 
The  pibroch  sounds,  the  bands  advance, 
The  broad-swords  gleam,  the  banners  dancu- 
Obedienl  to  the  Chieftain's  glance. 
I  turn  me  from  the  martial  roar, 
And  seek  Coir-Uriskin  once  more. 

Where  is  the  Douglas? — he  is  gone; 
And  Ellen  sits  on  the  gray  stone 
Fast  by  the  cave,  and  makes  her  moan  ; 
While  vainly  Allan's  words  of  cheer 
Are  poured  on  her  unheeding  ear. — 
■'  He  will  return — Dear  lady,  trust  1 — 
With  joy  return  ; — he  will — he  must. 
Well  was  it  time  to  seek  afar, 
Some  re^'uge  from  impending  war, 
When  e'en  Clan-Alpine's  rugged  swarm 
Are  cow'd  by  the  approaching  storm. 
I  saw  their  boats,  with  many  a  light, 
Floating  the  live-long  yesternight. 
Shifting  like  flashes  darted  forth 
By  the  red  streamers  of  the  north ; 
I  marked  at  morn  how  close  they  ride, 
Thick  moored  by  the  lone  islet's  side, 
Like  wild  ducks  couching  in  the  fen. 
When  stoops  the  hawk  upon  the  glen. 


Canto  IV        THE  PROPHECY.  67 

Since  tins  rude  race  dare  not  abide 
The  peril  on  the  mainland  side, 
Shall  not  thy  noble  father's  care 
Some  safe  retreat  for  thee  prepare?" — 

X. 

ELLEN. 

No,  Allan,  no  I  Pretext  so  kind 
My  wakeful  terrors  could  not  blind. 
Wiien  in  such  tender  tone,  yet  grave, 
Douglas  a  mining  blest^lng  gave, 
The  tear  that  glistened  in  his  eye 
Drov/ned  not  his  jjurpose  fixed  and  high. 
My  soul,  though  feminine  aud  Aveak, 
Can  image  his  ;  e'en  as  the  lake, 
Itself  dislurbed  by  slightest  stroke. 
Reflects  the  invulnerable  rock. 
He  hears  report  of  battle  rife. 
He  deems  himself  the  cause  of  strife 
I  saw  liim  redden,  vvlien  the  theme 
Turned,  Allan,  on  thine  idle  dream, 
Of  Malcolm  Grceme  in  fetters  bound, 
Which  I,  thou  said'st,  about  him  wound. 
Think'st  thou  he  trow'd  thine  omen  aughi 
Oh  no  1  'tvvas  appreliensive  thought 
For  the  kind  youth, — for  Roderick  too — 
(Let  me  be  just)  that  friend  so  true  ; 
In  danger  both,  and  in  our  cause  I 
Minstrel,  the  Douglas  dare  not  pause. 
Why  else  that  solenm  v/arning  given,^ 
"If  not  on  earth,  we  meet  in  heaven?'' 
Why  else,  to  Cambus-kennetlfs  fane, 
If  eve  return  liim  not  again. 
Am  I  to  hie  and  make  me  known  ? 
Alas  1  he  goes  to  Scotland's  throne, 
Buys  his  friends'  safety  with  his  own  , — 
He  goes  to  do — what  I  had  done, 
Had  Douglas'  daughter  been  his  son  '.** 


88  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canlo  IV 

XL 

''  Nay,  lovely  Ellen  I — dearest,  nay  I 

If  aught  should  his  return  delay, 

He  only  named  yon  holy  fane 

As  fitting  place  to  meet  again. 

Be  sure  he's  safe  ;  and  for  the  Gra?me, — 

Pleaven's  blessing  on  his  gallant  name  I — 

My  vision  sight  may  yet  prove  true, 

Nor  bode  of  ill  to  him  or  you. 

When  did  my  gifted  dream  beguile.'* 

Think  of  the  stranger  at  the  isle, 

And  think  upon  the  harpings  slow, 

That  pre-saged  this  approaching  wo ! 

Sooth  was  my  prophecy  of  fear ; 

Believe  it  when  it  augurs  cheer. 

Would  we  had  left  this  dismal  spot  I 

111  luck  still  haunts  a  fairy  grot. 

Of  such  a  wondrous  tale  I  know — 

Dear  lady,  change  that  look  of  wo  I 

My  liarp  was  wont  thy  grief  to  cheer,'' — 

ELLEN. 

"Well,  be  it  as  thou  wilt ;  I  hear, 
But  cannot  stop  the  bursting  tear."-  - 
The  minstrel  tried  his  simple  art. 
But  distant  far  was  Ellen's  heart- 

Xll 
B ALLAH 

ALICE  BRAND. 

Merry  it  is  in  the  good  green  wood, 

When  the  mavis*  and  merlet  are  singing. 

When  the  deer  sweeps  by,  and  the  laounds  arc  ui 
cry. 
And  the  hunter's  horn  is  ringing. 

*  Thrush.  t  IV.aclibird 


Cinto  IV.       THE  PROPHECY.  I« 

"  O  Alice  Brand,  my  native  land 

Is  lost,  for  love  of  you  ; 
And  we  must  hold  by  wood  and  wold. 

As  outlaws  wont  to  do. 

"  O  Alice,  "'twas  all  for  thy  locks  so  bright. 
And  'twas  all  for  thine  eyes  so  blue. 

That  on  the  night  of  our  luckless  flight, 
Thy  brother  bold  I  slew. 

'•  Now  must  I  teach  to  hew  the  beech, 

The  hand  that  held  the  glaive, 
For  leaves  to  spread  our  lowly  bed. 

And  stakes  to  fence  our  cave. 

"And  for  vest  of  pall,  thy  fingers  small. 

That  wont  on  harp  to  stray, 
A  cloak  must  shear  from  the  slaughtered  deer. 

To  keep  the  cold  away." — 

■'  O  Richard  I  if  my  brother  died, 

'Twas  but  a  fatal  chance  ; 
For  darkling  was  the  battle  tried, 

And  fortune  sped  the  lance. 

"  If  pall  and  vair  no  more  I  wear, 

Nor  thou  the  crimson  sheen, 
,'\s  warm,  we'll  say,  is  the  russet  gray, 

As  gay  the  forest-green. 

"  And,  Ricliard,  if  our  lot  be  hard, 

And  lost  thy  native  land, 
Still  Alice  has  h<ir  own  Richard, 

And  he  his  Alice  Brand." — 


xin. 

BALLAD  CONTLNUED. 


j 

'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry,  in  good  green  wood. 

So  blithe  Lady  Alice  is  singing ; 
On  the  beech's  pride,  and  the  oak's  brown  side. 

Lord  Richard's  axe  is  rinjring. 


%  LADY  OF  THE  LAKL.   Cuntu  «V 

Up  spoke  the  moody  Elfin  Kinz, 

Who  wonM  within  the  hill, — 
r^ike  wind  in  the  porch  of  a  ruined  church. 

His  voice  was  ghostly  shrill. 

"  Why  sounds  yon  stroke  on  beech  and  oak. 

Our  moonlight  circle's  screen? 
Or  who  comes  here  to  chase  the  deer, 

Beloved  of  our  Elfin  Queen .'' 
Or  who  may  dare  on  wold  to  wear 

The  fairie's  fatal  jrreen? 

"  Up,  Urgan,  up  !  to  yon  mortal  hie, 

For  thou  wert  christened  man  ; 
For  cross  or  sign  thou  wilt  not  fly 

For  muttered  word  or  ban, 

"  Lay  on  him  the  curse  of  the  withered  heart. 

The  curse  of  the  sleepless  eye  ; 
Till  he  v/ish  and  pray  that  his  life  would  part. 

Nor  yet  find  leave  to  die." — 

XIV. 
BALLAD  CONTINUED. 

'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry,  in  good  green  wood, 
Though  the  birds  have  stilled  their  singing 

The  evening  blaze  doth  Alice  raise, 
And  Richard  is  fagots  bringing. 

Up  Urgan  starts,  that  hideous  dwarf, 
Before  Lord  Richard  stands, 

And,  as  he  crossed  and  blessed  himself, 
I  fear  not  sign,"  quoth  the  grisly  elf, 
"  That  is  made  with  bloody  hands." 

J  ut  out  then  spoke  she,  Alice  Brand, 

That  woman  void  of  fear, — 
*  And  if  there's  blood  upon  his  hand, 

'Tis  but  the  blood  of  deer."— 

'  Now  loud  thou  liest.  thou  bold  of  mood  ' 
(t  cleaves  unto  his  hand. 


CsuitoIV.        THE  PROPHECY.  91 

Tho  stain  of  thme  own  kindly  blood, 
The  blood  of  Ethert  Brand."— 

Then  forward  stepp'd  she,  Alice  Brand, 

And  made  the  holy  sign, — 
*'  And  if  there's  blood  on  Richard's  hand, 

A  spotless  hand  is  mine. 

"  And  I  conjure  thee,  Demon  elf, 

By  him  whom  Demons  fear. 
To  show  us  whence  thou  art  thyself? 

And  what  thine  errand  here  ?" — 

XV. 
BALLAD  CONTINUED. 

"  'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry,  in  Fairy  lana, 

When  fairy  birds  are  sin^ng, 
When  the  court  doth  ride  by  their  monarch's  side 

With  bit  and  bridle  ringing. 

**  And  gayly  shines  the  Fairy  land — 

But  all  is  glistening  show. 
Like  the  idle  gleam  that  December "s  beam 

Can  dart  on  ice  and  snow. 

"  And  fading,  like  that  varied  gleam. 

Is  our  inconstant  shape. 
Who  now  like  knight  and  lady  seem. 

And  now  like  dwarf  and  ape. 

**It  was  between  the  night  and  day. 

When  the  Fairy  King  has  power. 
That  I  sunk  down  in  a  sinful  fray. 
And,  'twixt  life  and  death,  was  snatched  away. 

To  the  joyless  Elfin  bower. 

^  But  wist  I  of  a  woman  bold. 

Who  thrice  my  brow  durst  sign, 
i  might  regain  my  mortal  mold. 

As  fair  a  form  as  thine." 


92  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.  Canto  IV 

She  crossed  him  once — she  crossed  him  twice -^ 

That  lady  was  so  hntve  ; 
The  fouler  grew  his  goblin  hue, 

The  darker  grew  the  cave. 

She  crossed  him  thrice,  that  lady  bold: 

He  rose  beneatii  her  liand 
The  fairest  knight  on  Scottisli  mold. 

Her  Brother,  Etiiert  Brand  1 

Merry  it  is  in  the  good  green  wood, 
When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing, 

But  merrier  were  they  in  Dunfcrmiine  gray. 
When  all  the  bells  were  ringing. 

y  XVI. 

lust  as  the  minstrel  sounds  were  staid. 

A  stranger  climbed  the  stecpy  glade 

His  martial  step,  his  stately  mien, 

His  hunting  suit  of  Lincoln  green, 

His  eagle  glance,  remembrance  claims— 

Tis  Snowdoun's  Knight,  'tis  James  Fitz-Jameft 

Ellen  beheld  as  in  a  dream, 

Then  starting,  scarce  suppressed  a  scream  • 

''O  stranger',  in  such  hour  of  fear. 

What  evil  hap  has  brought  thee  here?" 

"  An  evil  hap,  hovv  can  it  be. 

That  bids  me  look  again  on  thee  ? 

By  promise  bound,  my  former  guide 

Met  me  betimes  this  morning  tido. 

And  marshaird,  over  bank  and  bourne. 

The  liappy  path  of  my  return.'" — 

"  The  happy  path  1 — what !  said  he  nought 

Of  war,  of  battle  to  be  fought. 

Of  guarded  pass?" — "  >'u,  by  my  faith  I 

Nor  saw  I  aught  could  augur  scathe.''' — 

"Oh  haste  thee,  Allan,  to  the  kerne, — 

Yonder  his  tartans  I  discern  : — 

Learn  thou  his  purpose,  and  conjure 

That  he  will  guide  the  stranger  sure  I — 


Canto  IV.      THE  PROPHECY.  93 

What  prompted  thee,  unhappy  man  ! 
The  meanest  serf  in  Roderick's  clan 
Had  not  been  bribed  by  love  or  fear, 
Unknown  to  him,  to  guide  thee  hero." 

XVII. 

"  Sweet  Ellen,  dear  my  life  must  bo, 

Since  it  is  worthy  care  from  tJiee ; 

Yet  hfe  I  hold  but  idle  breath, 

When  love  or  honour's  weighed  with  death  : 

Then  let  me  profit  by  my  chance. 

And  speak  my  purpose  bold  at  once, 

[  come  to  bear  thee  from  a  wild, 

Where  ne'er  before  such  blossom  smiled ; 

By  this  soft  hand  to  lead  thee  far 

From  frantic  scenes  of  feud  and  war. 

Near  Bochastle  my  horses  wait ; 

They  bear  us  soon  to  Stirling  gate. 

ril  place  thee  in  a  lovely  bower, 

ril  guard  thee  hke  a  tender  flower." 

'*  O !  hush,  Sir  Knight  1  'twere  female  art. 

To  say  I  do  not  read  thy  heart ; 

Too  much,  before,  my  selfish  ear 

VVas  idly  soothed  my  praise  to  hear. 

That  fatal  bait  hath  lured  thee  back, 

In  deathful  hour,  o'er  dangeroiLs  track; 

And  hov/,  O  how,  can  I  atone 

The  wreck  my  vanity  brought  on  I — 

One  way  remains — 1 11  tell  him  all — 

Yes !  struggling  bosom,  forth  it  shall . 

Thou,  whose  light  folly  bears  the  blame, 

Buy  tliine  own  pardon  with  thy  shame . 

But  first — my  father  is  a  man 

Outlawed  and  exiled,  under  ban ; 

The  price  of  blood  is  on  his  head. 

With  me  'twere  infamy  to  wed. — 

Still  would'st  thus  speak  ?  then  hear  the  truiii 

Fitz-James,  there  is  a  noble  youth, — 

[f  yet  he  is  ! — exposed  for  me 

And  mine  to  dread  extremity 


94  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canto  IV 

Thou  hast  the  secret  of  my  heart ; 
Forgive,  be  generous,  and  depart." — 

XVIII. 

Fitz-James  knew  every  wily  train 

A  lady's  fickle  heart  to  gain, 

But  here  he  knew  and  felt  them  vain. 

There  shot  no  glance  from  Ellen's  eye, 

To  give  her  steadfast  speech  the  lie  ; 

In  maiden  confidence  she  stood, 

Though  mantled  in  her  cheek  the  blood. 

And  told  her  love  with  such  a  sigh 

Of  deep  and  hopeless  agony, 

As  death  had  sealed  her  Malcolm's  doom. 

And  she  sat  sorrowing  on  his  tomb. 

Hope  vanished  from  Fitz-James's  eye, 

But  not  with  hope  fled  sympathy. 

He  proffered  to  attend  her  side, 

As  brother  would  a  sister  guide. — 

"  O !  little  know'st  thou  Roderick's  heart.' 

Safer  for  both  we  go  apart. 

O  haste  thee,  and  from  Allan  learn, 

If  thou  may'st  trust  yon  wily  kerne."— 

With  hand  upon  his  forehead  laid, 

The  conflict  of  his  mind  to  shade, 

A  parting  step  or  two  he  made ; 

Then,  as  some  thought  had  crossed  his  brain. 

He  paused,  and  turned,  and  came  again. 

XIX. 

*'Hear,  lady,  yet  a  parting  word  I — 
It  chanced  in  fi^ht  that  my  poor  sword 
Preserved  the  life  of  Scotland's  lord. 
This  ring  the  grateful  Monarch  gave, 
And  bade,  when  I  had  boon  to  crave, 
To  bring  it  back,  and  boldly  claim 
The  recompense  that  I  would  name. 
Fallen,  I  am  no  courtly  lord. 
But  one  who  lives  by  lance  and  sword. 


Car.to  IV.      THE  PROPHECY.  95 

Wiose  castle  is  his  helm  and  shield, 

His  lordship,  the  embatiled  field. 

What  from  a  prince  caa  I  demand, 

Who  neither  reek  of  state  nor  land? 

Ellen,  thy  hand — the  ring  is  thine  ; 

Each  guard  and  usher  knows  the  sign. 

Seek  thou  the  king  without  delay, 

The  signet  shall  secure  thy  way ; 

And  claim  thy  suit,  whatever  it  be, 

As  ransom  of  his  ])ledge  to  me." 

He  placed  the  golden  circle  on, 

Paused — kissed  her  hand — and  then  was  gor.rf 

The  aged  minstrel  stood  aghast. 

So  hastily  Fitz-James  shot  past. 

He  joined  his  guide,  and  wending  down 

The  ridges  of  the  mountain  brown, 

Across  ti;e  stream  they  took  their  way, 

That  joins  Loch-Katrine  to  Achray. 

XX. 

All  in  the  Trosach's  glen  was  still, 

Noontide  was  sleeping  on  the  hill : 

Sudden  his  guide  whooped  loud  and  high — 

'•  Murdoch  !  was  that  a  signal  cry?" 

He  stammered  forth, — "  I  shout  to  scare 

Yon  raven  from  his  dainty  fare.'' 

He  looked — he  knew  the  raven's  prey. 

His  own  brave  steed : — "  Ah  I  gallant  gray. 

For  thee,  for  me,  perchance — 'twere  well 

Had  we  ne'er  seen  the  Trosach's  dell. — 

Murdoch,  move  first — but  silently ; 

Whistle  or  whoop,  and  thou  shalt  die; " — 

Jealous  and  sullen  on  they  fared. 

Each  silent,  each  upon  his  guard. 

XXI. 

Now  wound  the  path  its  dizzy  ledge 
.Ground  a  precipice's  edge. 
When  lo  1  a  wasted  female  form, 
Blighted  by  wrath  of  sun  and  storm, 


9f)  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  n' 

In  tattered  weeds  and  wild  array, 

Stood  on  a  cliiF  beside  the  way, 

And  glancing  round  her  restless  eye, 

Upon  the  wood,  the  rock,  the  sky, 

Seemed  nought  to  mark,  yet  all  to  spy. 

Her  brow  was  wreathed  with  gaudy  broom  ; 

With  gesture  wild  she  waved  a  plume 

Of  feathers,  which  the  eagles  fling 

To  crag  and  cliff  from  dusky  wing; 

Such  spoils  her  desperate  step  had  sought, 

Where  scarce  was  footing  for  the  goat. 

Tlie  tartan  plaid  she  first  descried. 

And  shrieked,  till  all  the  rocks  replied  ; 

As  loud  she  laughed  when  near  tliey  drew, 

Fo"  *.hen  the  lowland  garb  she  knew  ; 

And  then  her  hands  she  wildly  rung. 

And  then  she  wept,  and  then  she  sung. — 

She  sung  1 — the  voice,  in  better  time. 

Perchance  to  harp  or  lute  miirht  chime  ; 

And  now,  though  strained  and  roughened,  still 

Rung  wildly  sweet  to  dale  and  liill. 

XXII. 
SONG. 
They  bid  mc  sleep,  they  bid  me  prav, 

They  say  my  brain  is  warped  and  wning — 
I  cannot  sleep  on  hisrhland  brae, 

I  cannot  pray  in  Highland  tongue. 
But  were  I  now  where  Allan  glides. 
Or  heard  my  native  Devan's  tides. 
So  sweetly  would  I  rest,  and  pray 
That  Heaven  would  close  my  wintr}'  day  I 

•Twas  thus  my  hair  they  bade  me  braid, 
They  bade  me  to  the  church  repair ; 

It  was  my  bridal  mom  they  said. 
And  my  true  love  would  meet  me  there. 

But  wo  betide  tlie  cruel  guile, 

That  drowned  in  blood  the  morning  smile 

And  wo  betide  the  fairv'  dream  ! 

I  only  waked  to  sob  and  scream. 


Canto  IV.       THE  PROPHECY.  37 

xxm. 

"  Wlio  is  this  maid  ?  what  means  her  lay  ? 

She  hovers  o'er  the  hollow  way, 

And  flutters  wide  her  mantle  gray, 

As  the  lone  heron  spreads  his  wing, 

By  twilight  o'er  a  haunted  spring." — • 
'Tis  Blanche  of  Devan,"  Murdoch  said, 
A  crazed  and  captive  lowland  maid, 

Ta'en  on  the  morn  she  was  a  bride. 

When  Roderick  forayed  Devan-side. 

The  gay  bridegroom  resistance  made. 

And  felt  our  chief's  unconquered  blade 

I  marvel  she  is  now  at  large, 

Rut  ofl  she  'scapes  from  Maudlin's  charge.- 

Hence,  brain-sick  fool  I" — He  raised  his  bow  :- 

"  Now,  if  tliou  strickest  her  but  one  blow, 

I'll  pitch  thee  from  the  cliff  as  far 

As  ever  peasant  pitched  a  bar." — 

"  Thanks,  champion,  thanks  1"  the  Maniac  cried 

And  pressed  her  to  Fitz-James's  side. 

"  See  the  gray  pennons  I  prepare, 

To  seek  my  true-love  through  the  air  I 

I  will  not  lend  that  savage  groom. 

To  break  his  fall,  one  downy  plume  ! 

No  I — deep  amid  disjointed  stones. 

The  wolves  shall  batten  on  his  bones. 

And  then  shall  his  detested  plaid. 

By  bush  and  brier  in  mid  air  staid, 

Wave  forth  a  banner  fair  and  free, 

Meet  signal  for  their  revelry." — 

XXIV. 
*'  Hush  tliee,  poor  maiden,  and  be  still  1" 
"  O !  thou  look'st  kindly,  and  I  will. — 
Mine  eye  has  dried  and  wasted  been, 
But  still  it  loves  the  Lincoln  green  ; 
And,  though  mine  ear  is  all  unstrung. 
Still,  still  it  loves  the  lowland  tongue. 

For  O  my  sweet  WiUiam  was  forester  trufj- 
He  stole  poor  Blanche's  heart  away  ! 


98  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  IV 

flis  coat  it  was  all  of  the  greenwood  hui.-, 
And  so  blithely  he  trilled  the  lowland  lay  '. — 

It  was  not  that  I  meant  to  tell — 
But  thou  art  wise,  and  gues?est  well." — 
Then,  in  a  low  and  broken  tone, 
And  hurried  note,  the  song  went  on. 
Still  on  the  Clansman,  fearfully, 
She  fixed  her  apprehensive  eye  ; 
Then  turned  it  on  the  Knight,  and  then 
Her  look  glanced  wildly  o'er  the  glen. 

XXV. 

The  toils  are  pitched,  and  the  stakes  are  set, 

Ever  sing  merrily,  merrily ; 
The  bows  they  bend,  and  the  knives  tliey  whcl, 

Hunters  live  so  cheerily. 
It  was  a  stag,  a  stag  of  ten,* 

Bering  his  branches  sturdily  ; 
He  came  stately  down  the  glen, 

Ever  sing  hardily,  hardily. 

It  was  there  he  met  with  a  wounded  doe ;  — 

She  was  bleeding  deathfuUy;  "» 

She  warned  him  ot"  the  toils  below, 

O  so  faithfully,  faithfully  I 
He  had  an  eye,  and  he  could  heed. 

Ever  sing  warily,  warily  ; 
fie  had  a  foot,  and  he  could  speed — 

Hunters  watch  so  narrowly. 

XXVI. 

Fitz-James's  mind  was  passion-toss'd, 
When  Ellen's  hints  and  fears  were  lost; 
But  Murdoch's  shout  suspicion  wrough.t, 
And  Blanche's  song  conviction  brouglit.— 
Not  hke  the  stag  that  spies  the  snare. 
But  lion  of  the  hunt  aware, 

•  Having  ten  branches  on  his  anuera 


Canto  rV^       THE  PROPHECY.  «JJ 

He  waved  at  once  his  blade  on  high, 
"  Disclose  lliy  treachery,  cr  die  !" — 
Forth  at  full  speed  the  Clansman  flew. 
But  in  his  race  his  bow  he  drew. 
The  shaft  just  grazed  Fitz-James's  crest, 
And  thrilled  in  Blanche's  faded  breast.^ 
Murdoch  of  Alpine  !  prove  thy  speed, 
For  ne'er  had  Alpine's  son  such  need  ! 
With  heart  of  fire,  and  foot  of  wind, 
The  fierce  avenger  is  behind  ! 
Fate  judges  of  the  rapid  strife — 
The  forfeit,  death — the  prize  is  life  I 
Thy  kindred  ambush  lies  before, 
Close  couched  upon  the  heathery  moor ; 
Them  couldst  thou  reach  I — it  may  not  be— 
Thine  ambushed  kin.  thou  ne'er  shalt  see, 
The  fiery  Saxon  gains  on  thee  1 
R.esislless  speeds  the  deadly  thrust, 
As  lightning  strikes  the  pine  to  dust ; 
With  foot  and  hand  Fitz- James  must  strain 
Ere  he  can  win  his  blade  again. 
Bent  o'er  the  fallen,  with  falcon  eye. 
He  grimly  smiled  to  see  liim  die ; 
Then  slower  wended  back  his  way. 
Where  flie  poor  maiden  bleeding  lav 

XXVIL 

She  sate  beneath  the  birchen  tree. 

Her  elbow  resting  on  her  knee ; 

She  had  withdrawn  the  fatal  shaft. 

And  gazed  on  it,  and  feebly  laugh'd  ; 

Her  wreath  of  broom  and  feathers  gray, 

Daggled  with  blood,  beside  her  lay. 

The  Knight  to  stanch  the  life-stream  tried, 

"  Stranger,  it  is  in  vain  !'•  she  cried. 

"  This  hour  of  death  has  given  me  more 

Of  reason's  power  than  years  before : 

For,  as  these  ebbing  veins  decay, 

My  frenzied  visions  fade  away. 


100  LADY  OF  TPIE  LAKE.    Canto  IV 

A  helpless  injured  wretch  I  die, 
And  something  tslls  me  in  thine  eye, 
That  thou  wort  mine  avenger  bom. — 
Seest  thou  this  tress? — O  1  siill  I've  worn 
This  httle  tress  of  yellow  hair. 
Through  danger,  frenzy,  and  despair  I 
[t  once  was  bright  and  clear  as  thine, 
But  blood  and  tears  have  dimmed  its  shine. 
I  will  not  tell  thee  when  'twas  shred, 
Nor  from  what  guiltless  victim's  head — 
My  brain  would  turn  ! — but  it  shall  wave 
Like  plumage  on  thy  helmet  brave, 
Till  sun  and  wind  shall  bleach  the  stain. 
And  thou  wilt  bring  it  me  again. — 
I  waver  still  I — O  God  I  more  briglit 
Let  Reason  beam  her  parting  light ! — 
O I  by  thy  knighthood's  honoured  sign. 
And  for  thy  life  preserved  by  mine, 
When  thou  shalt  see  a  darksome  man, 
Wiio  boasts  him  Chief  of  Alpine's  clan, 
With  tartans  broad,  and  shadowy  plume. 
And  hand  of  blood,  and  brow  of  gloom. 
Bo  thy  heart  bold,  thy  weapon  strong. 
And  wreak  poor  Blanche  of  Devan's  wron^r: 
They  watch  for  thee  by  pass  and  fell — 
Avoid  the  paih — O  God  I — farewell." 

XXVIIL 

A  kindly  heart  had  brave  Fitz-James  ; 
Fast  poured  his  eye  at  pity's  claims. 
And  now,  with  mingled  grief  and  ire, 
He  saw  the  murdered  maid  expire. 
''  God,  in  my  need,  be  my  relief. 
As  I  wreak  this  on  yonder  Chief  I" — 
A  lock  from  Blanche's  tresses  fair 
He  blended  with  her  bridegroom's  h&ir; 
The  mingled  braid  in  blood  he  died, 
And  placed  it  on  his  bonnet  side  : 
''  By  Him  whose  word  is  truth  1  I  swear, 
No  other  favour  will  I  wear. 


Canto  IV.       THE  PROPHECY.  101 

Till  ihis  sad  token  1  imbrre 

In  the  best  blood  of  Roderick  Dim  I — 

But  hark  !  wliat  means  yon  faint  halloo  •^ 

The  chase  is  up, — but  they  shall  know, 

The  stag  at  bay's  a  dangerous  foe." — 

Barr'd  from  the  known  but  guarded  way, 

Through  copse  and  cliff  Fitz-Janies  must  stmy- 

And  oft  must  change  Jiis  desperate  track. 

By  stream  and  precipice  turned  back. 

Heartless,  fatigued,  and  faint,  at  length, 

From  lack  of  food  and  loss  of  strength, 

He  couched  him  in  a  thicket  hoar, 

And  thought  his  toils  and  perils  o'er : — 

"  Of  all  my  rash  adventures  past, 

This  frantic  feat  will  prove  the  last  1 

Who  e'er  so  mad  but  might  have  guess'd, 

That  all  this  highland  hornet's  nest 

Would  muster  up  in  swarms  so  soon 

As  e'er  they  heard  of  bands  at  Doune.' 

Like  bloodhounds  now  they  search  me  out.-" 

Hark !  to  the  whistle  and  the  shout ! — 

If  further  tlirough  the  wilds  1  go, 

I  only  fall  upon  the  foe  ; 

I'll  couch  me  here  till  evening  gray, 

Then  darkling  try  my  dangerous  way." — 

XXIX.  r^ 

The  shades  of  eve  come  slowly  down, 
The  woods  are  wrapped  in  deeper  browii, 
The  owl  awakens  from  her  dell. 
The  fox  is  heard  upon  the  fell ; 
Enough  remains  of  glimmering  light 
To  guide  the  wanderer's  steps  aright. 
Yet  not  enough  from,  far  to  show 
His  figure  to  the  watchful  foe. 
With  cautious  step,  and  ear  awake. 
He  climbs  the  crag  and  threads  the  brake  ; 
.'Vnd  not  the  summer  solstice  there, 
Temper'd  the  midnight  mountain  air, 
But  every  breeze,  that  swept  the  wold, 
Benumbed  his  drenched  limbs  with  cold. 


102  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   Canto  IV 

In  dreail,  in  danger,  and  alone, 

Famished  and  chilled,  through  ways  unknown; 

Tangled  and  steep,  he  journeyed  on  ; 

Till,  as  a  rock's  huge  point  he  turned, 

A  watch-fire  close  before  him  burned. 

XXX. 

Beside  its  embers  red  and  clear. 

Basked,  in  his  plaid,  a  mountaineer ; 

And  up  he  sprung  with  sword  in  hand, — 

"  Thy  name  and  purpose  !  Saxon,  stand  1"' — 

"  A  stranger." — "  What  dost  thou  require  .'"'— 

"  Rest  and  a  guide,  and  food  and  fire. 

My  life's  beset,  my  path  is  lost, 

The  gale  has  chilled  my  limbs  with  frost." 

"  Art  thou  a  friend  to  Roderick  i"'— "  No." 

"  Thou  darest  not  call  thyself  a  foe  ?"-  - 

"  I  dare  !  to  him  and  all  the  band 

He  brings  to  aid  liis  murd'crous  hand," — 

"  Bold  words  1 — but,  though  the  beast  of  game 

The  privilege  of  chase  may  claim, 

Though  space  and  law  the  stag  we  lend. 

Ere  hound  we  slip,  or  bow  we  bend. 

Who  ever  reck'd,  where,  how,  or  when, 

The  prowling  fox  was  trapped  or  slain  i* 

Thus  treacherous  scouts, — yet  sure  they  lie. 

Who  say  thou  camest  a  secret  spy  !" 

"  They  do,  by  heaven  I — Come  Roderick  Dhu. 

And  of  his  clan  the  boldest  two, 

And  let  me  but  till  morning  rest 

I  write  the  falsehood  on  their  crest." — 

''  If  by  the  blaze  I  mark  aright. 

Thou  bear'st  the  belt  and  spur  of  Knight." 

"  Then,  by  these  tokens  mayst  thou  know, 

Each  proud  oppressor's  mortal  foe." — 

"  Enough,  enough  ;  sit  down  and  share 

A  soldier's  couch,  a  soldier's  fare." — 

XXXI. 

He  gvive  him  of  his  highland  cheer. 
The  hardened  Hesh  of  mountain  deer; 


CaiitoIV         THE  PROPHECY.  103 

Dry  fuel  on  the  fire  he  laid, 

And  bade  the  Saxon  share  his  plaid  ; 

He  tended  him  like  welcome  guest, 

Then  thus  his  further  speech  addressed, 

"  Stranger,  I  am  to  Roderick  Dhu, 

A  clansman  born,  a  kinsman  true  ; 

Each  word  against  his  honour  spoke 

Demands  of  me  avenging  stroke ; 

Yet  more,^upon  thy  fate,  'tis  said 

A  mighty  augury  is  laid. 

It  rests  with  me  to  wind  my  horn, — 

Thou  art  with  numbers  overborne  ; 
It  rests  with  me,  here,  brand  to  brand, 

Worn  as  thou  art,  to  bid  thee  stand ; 
But,  nor  for  clan,  nor  kindred's  cause, 
Will  I  depart  from  honour's  laws :      ^^^ 
\      To  assail  a  wearied  man  were  shameT^ 
And  stranger  is  a  holy  name  ;     ^^        ^ 
<* -^Guidance  and  rest,  and  food  and  fire, 
In  vain  he  never  must  require. 
Then  rest  thee  here  till  dawn  of  day. 
Myself  will  guide  thee  on  the  way. 
O'er  stock  and  stone,  through  watch  and  ward. 
Till  past  Clan- Alpine's  outmost  guard, 
As  far  as  Coilantogle's  ford ; 
From  thence  thy  warrant  is  thy  sword."— 
"  I  take  thy  courtesy,  by  Heaven, 
As  freely  as  'tis  nobly  given  I" — 
'•  Well,  rest  thee  ;  for  the  bittern's  cry 
^Sings  us  the  lake's  wild  lullaby." — 
With  that  he  shook  the  gathered  heath, 
And  spread  his  plaid  upon  the  wreath  ; 
And  the  brave  foenien,  side  by  side. 
Lay  peaceful  down  like  brothers  tried, 
And  slept  until  the  dawning  beam 
Purpled  the  mountain  and  the  stroajiu 


END  OF  CANTO  FODfiTij 


k 


THE 

L^P¥  OF  TflEl  £,AIif]» 

CANTO  FIFTH. 
THE    COMBAT. 

I. 

FAIR  as  the  earliest  beam  of  eastern  light, 

When  first,  by  the  bewildered  pilgrim  spied 
It  smiles  upon  the  dreary  brow  of  ni^ht, 

And  silvers  o'er  the  torrent's  foaming  tide, 
And  lights  the  fearful  path  on  mountain  side , 

Fair  as  that  beam,  although  the  fairest  far. 
Giving  to  horror  grace,  to  danger  pride, 

Shine  martial  Faith,  and  Courtesy's  bright  star, 
Through  all  the  wreckful  storms  that  cloud  tlie 
brow  of  War. 

II. 

That  early  beam,  so  fair  and  sheen, 
Was  twiniiling  through  the  hazel  screen, 
When,  rousing  at  its  glimmer  red, 
The  warriors  left  their  lowly  bed. 
Looked  out  upon  the  dappled  sky. 
Muttered  their  soldier  matins  by. 
And  then  awaked  their  fire,  to  steal, 
As  short  and  rude,  their  soldier  meal. 
That  o'er,  the  Gael*  around  liira  threw 
His  graceful  plaid  of  varied  hue, 
And,  true  to  promise,  led  the  v/ay. 
By  thicket  green  and  mountain  gray. 

*  The  Scottish  Highlander  calls  himself  Gael,  or  CltU. 
and  terms  the  Lowlanders,  Sassenach,  or  Saxons. 


106  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

A  wildcring  path  I — they  winded  now 
Along  the  precipice's  brow, 
Commanding-  the  rich  scenes  beneath, 
Tiie  windings  of  the  Forth  and  Teith, 
And  all  the  vales  between  tliat  lie. 
Till  Stirling's  turrets  melt  in  sky ; 
Then,  sunk  in  copse,  their  furthest  glance 
Gained  not  the  length  of  horseman's  lance. 
'Twas  oft  so  steep,  the  foot  was  fain 
Assistance  from  the  hand  to  gain  : 
So  tangled  oft.  that,  bursting  through, 
Each  hawthorn  shed  her  showers  of  dew, — 
That  diamond  dew,  so  pure  and  clear, 
[t  rivals  all  but  Beauty's  tear ! 

IIL 

At  length  they  came  where  .stem  and  steep, 

The  hill  sinks  down  upon  the  deep  ; 

Here  Vennachar  in  silver  flows. 

There,  ridge  on  ridge,  Benledi  rose. 

Ever  the  hollow  path  twined  on. 

Beneath  steep  bank  and  threatening  stono  • 

A  hundred  men  might  hold  the  post 

With  hardihood  against  a  host. 

The  rugged  mountain's  scanty  cloak 

Was  dwarfish  shrubs  of  birch  and  oak. 

With  shingles  bare,  and  cliffs  between, 

And  patches  briglit  of  bracken  green. 

And  heather  black,  that  waved  so  high, 

It  Jield  the  copse  in  rivalry. 

But  where  the  lake  slept  deep  and  still. 

Dank  osiers  fringed  the  swamp  and  hil' 

And  oft  both  path  and  hill  were  torn. 

Where  wintry  torrent  down  had  borne.. 

And  heaped  upon  the  cumbered  land 

Its  wreck  of  gravel,  rocks,  and  sand. 

So  toilsome  was  tlie  road  to  trace. 

The  guide,  abating  of  his  pace. 

Led  slowly  through  the  pass's  jaws. 

And  asked  Fitz-Jamcs,  by  what  strange  cr.upe 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  107 

He  sought  thesa  wilds ;  traversed  by  few, 
Without  a  pass  from  Roderick  Dhu  ? 

..-^  IV 

•'  Brave  Gaael,  my  pass,  in  danger  tried, 
Hangs  in  my  belt,  and  by  ray  side ; 
Vet,  sooth  to  tell,"  the  Saxon  said. 
•'  I  dreamed  not  nov/  to  claim  its  aid. 
When  here,  out  three  days'  since,  I  came, 
[Jev/ildcred  in  pursuit  of  game, 
All  seem.ed  as  peaceful  and  as  still, 
As  the  mist  slumbering  on  yon  hill ; 
Thy  dangerous  chief  was  then  afar, 
iWr  soon  expected  back  from  war. 
Thus  said,  at  least,  my  mountain  guide, 
Though  deep,  perchance,  the  villain  lied." 
''  Yet  why  a  second  venture  try  ?" — • 
"  A  warrior  thou,  and  ask  me  why  ! — 
Moves  our  free  course  by  such  fixed  cause. 
As  gives  the  poor  mechanic  laws.^ 
Enough,  I  sought  to  drive  away 
The  lazy  hours  of  peaceful  day ; 
Slight  cause  will  then  suffice  to  guide 
A  knight's  free  footsteps  far  and  wide ; — 
A  falcon  flown,  a  gray  hound  strayed. 
The  merry  glance  of  mountain  maid; 
Or,  if  a  path  be  dangerous  known, 
The  danger's  self  is  lure  alone." — 

V. 

'  Thy  secret  keep,  I  urge  thee  not ; — 
Yet,  ere  again  ye  sought  this  spot. 
Say,  heard  ye  nought  of  lowland  war, 
Against  Clan-Alpine  raised  by  Mar  ?" — 
'' — No,  by  my  word  ; — of  bands  prepared 
To  guard  King  James's  sports  I  heard ; 
Nor  doubt  I  aught,  but,  when  they  hear 
This  muster  of  the  mountaineer, 
Their  pennons  will  abroad  be  flung, 
Which  else  in  Doune  had  ;;eaceful  hung." 


108  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.     Canto  V 

"  Free  be  tliey  flung  I — for  we  were  lolli 
Their  silken  folds  should  feast  the  motli. 
Free  be  they  flung  i — as  free  shall  wave 
Clan-Alpine's  pine  in  banner  brave. 
But,  stranger,  peaceful  since  you  came 
Bewildered  in  the  mountain  game, 
Whence  the  bold  boast  by  which  you  show 
V'ich-Alpine's  vov/ed  and  mortal  foe:" — 
••  Warrior,  but  yester-morn,  I  knew 
Nought  of  thy  Chieftain,  Roderick  Dhu, 
Save  as  an  exiled  desperate  man, 
The  chief  of  a  rebellious  clan, 
Who,  in  the  Regent's  court  and  sight, 
With  ruffian  dagger  stabbed  a  knight. 
Yet  this  alone  might  from  his  part 
Sever  each  true  and  loyal  heart." — 

VI. 

Wrathful  at  such  arraignment  foul, 
Dark  lowered  the  clansman's  sable  scowl. 
A  space  he  paused,  then  sternly  said, — 
'•  And  heardst  thou  why  he  drew  iiis  blade.' 
Heardst  thou  tliat  shameful  word  aixd  blow 
Brought  Roderick's  vengeance  on  his  foe .' 
What  reck'd  the  Cliieftain,  if  he  stood 
On  highland  heath,  or  Holy-Rood  ?  " 

He  rights  such  wrong  where  it  is  given. 
If  it  were  in  the  court  of  heaven.'" — 
'•  Still  was  it  outrage  ; — yet,  'tis  true. 
Not  then  claimed  sovereignty  his  due ; 
While  Albany,  with  feeble  hand, 
Held  borrowed  truncheon  of  command. 
The  young  King,  mew'd  in  Stirling  tower, 
Was  stranger  to  respect  and  power. 
But  then,  thy  Chieftain's  robber  life  ! — 
Winning  mean  prey  b}'^  causeless  strife. 
Wrenching  from  ruin'd  lowland  swain 
His  herds  and  harvest  reared  in  vain, — 
Methinks  a  soul,  like  thine,  should  scon. 
The  spoils  from  such  foul  foray  Lome.' 


Canto  V  THE  COMBAT.  lOb 

V'll. 

The  Gael  beheld  him  fifrim  the  while, 

And  answered  with  disdainful  smile, — 

"  Saxon,  from  yonder  mountain  high, 

I  marked  thee  send  dehghted  eye, 

Far  to  the  south  and  east,  where  lay, 

Extended  in  succession  gay, 

Deep  waving  fields  and  pastures  green, 

With  gentle  slopes  and  groves  between  • 

These  fertile  plains,  that  softened  valc^ 

Were  once  the  birthright  of  the  Gael ; 

The  stranger  came  with  iron  hand, 

And  from  our  fathers  reft  the  land. 

Where  dwell  we  now  I  See  rudely  swell 

Crag  over  crag,  and  fell  o'er  fell. 

As  we  this  savage  hill  we  tread. 

For  fattened  steer  or  household  bread ; 

Ask  we  for  tlocks  these  shingles  dry, 

And  well  the  mountain  might  reply, — 

'  To  you,  as  to  your  sires  of  yore, 

Belong  the  target  and  claymore  1 

I  give  you  shelter  in  m.y  breast. 

Your  ov/n  good  blades  must  win  the  rest,'-— 

Pent  in  this  fortress  of  the  North, 

Think'st  thou  we  will  not  sally  forth, 

To  spoil  the  spoiler  as  we  may, 

And  from  the  robber  rend  llie  pre}'^  .■' 

Ay,  by  my  soul  I — While  on  yon  plain 

The  Saxon  rears  one  shock  of  grain  ; 

While,  of  ten  thousand  herds,  there  strays 

But  one  along  yon  river's  maze, — 

The  Gael,  of  plain  and  river  heir. 

Shall,  with  strong  hand,  redeem  his  share. 

Where  live  the  mountain  chiefs  who  hold, 

That  plundering  lowland  field  and  fold 

Is  aught  but  retribution  true  ? 

Seek  other  cause  'gainst  Roderick  Dhu.'' 


110  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

VIII. 

Answered  Fitz-James, — "  And,  if  I  sougiit, 

Think'st  thou  no  other  could  be  brought? 

What  deem  ye  of  my  path  waylaid, 

My  life  given  o'er  to  ambuscade  r'' — 

"  As  of  a  meed  to  rashness  due  : 

Hadst  thou  sent  warning  fair  and  true, — 

I  seek  my  hound,  or  falcon  strayed, 

I  seek,  good  faith,  a  highland  maid, — 

Free  hadst  thou  been  to  come  and  go — 

But  secret  path  marks  secret  foe. 

Nor  yet.  for  this,  even  as  a  spy, 

Hadst  thou,  unheard,  been  doomed  to  die^ 

Save  to  fulfil  an  augury," — 

"  Well,  let  it  pass  ;  nor  will  I  now 

Fresh  cause  of  enmity  avow. 

To  chafe  thy  mood  and  cloud  thy  brow 

Enough,  I  am  by  promise  tied 

To  match  me  with  this  man  of  pride  : 

Twice  have  I  sought  Clan- Alpine's  glen 

In  peace ;  but,  when  I  come  agen, 

I  come  with  banner,  brand,  and  bow. 

As  leader  seeks  his  mortal  foe. 

For  lovelorn  swain,  in  lady's  bower, 

Ne'er  panted  for  tlie  appointed  hour. 

As  I,  until  before  me  stand 

This  rebel  Chieftain  and  his  band." — 

IX 

"Have,  then,  thy  wish !"  he  whistled  shrill 
And  he  was  answered  from  the  hill ; 
Wild  as  the  scream  of  the  curlew. 
From  crag  to  crag  the  signal  flew. 
Instant,  through  copse  and  heath,  arose 
Bonnets  and  spears  and  bended  bows ; 
On  right,  on  left,  above,  below, 
Sprung  up  at  once  the  lurking  foe ; 
From  shingles  gray  tlieir  lances  start, 
The  bracken-bush  sends  forth  the  dart, 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT  111 

The  rushes  and  the  wiliow-wand 

Are  bristUng  into  axe  and  brand, 

And  every  tuft  of  broom  gives  life 

To  plaided  warrior  armed  for  strife. 

That  whistle  garrisoned  the  glen 

At  once  with  full  five  hundred  men, 

As  if  the  yawning  hill  to  heaven 

A  subterranean  host  had  given. 

Watching  their  leader's  beck  and  will, 

All  silent  there  they  stood  and  still ; 

Like  the  loose  crags  whose  threat'ning  mass 

Lay  tottering  o'er  the  hollow  pass, 

As  if  an  infant's  touch  could  urge 

Their  headlong  passage  down  the  verge. 

With  step  and  weapon  forward  flung, 

Upon  the  mountam-side  they  hung. 

The  mountaineer  cast  glance  of  pride 

Along  Beledi's  livmg  side, 

Then  fixed  his  eye  and  sable  brow 

Full  on  Fitz- James — "  How  say'st  thou  now- 

These  are  Clan- Alpine's  warriors  true ; 

And,  Saxon, — I  am  Roderick  Dhu  1" 


Fitz-James  was  brave : — Though  to  his  heart 

The  hfe-blood  thrilled  with  sudden  start, 

He  mann'd  himself  with  dauntless  air, 

Retum'd  the  chief  his  haughty  stare. 

His  back  against  a  rock  he  bore, 

And  firmly  placed  his  foot  before . 

"  Come  one,  come  all !  this  rock  shall  fly 

From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I."^ 

Sir  Roderick  marked — and  in  his  eyes 

Respect  was  mingled  with  surprise. 

And  the  stern  joy  which  warriors  feel 

In  foemen  worthy  of  their  steel. 

Short  space  he  stood — then  waved  his  hand 

Dov/n  sunk  the  disappearing  band ; 

Each  warrior  vanished  where  he  stood, 

In  broom  or  bracken,  heath  or  wood ; 


112  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V. 

Sunk  brand  and  spear  and  bended  bow. 

In  osiers  pale  and  copses  low ; 

It  seemed  as  if  llieir  mother  Eartli 

Had  swallowed  up  her  warlike  birth. 

The  wind's  last  breath  had  tossed  in  air, 

Pennon,  and  plaid,  and  plumage  fair, — 

Tiie  next  but  swept  a  lone  hill-side, 

Where  heath  and  fern  were  waving  wide; 

The  sun's  last  glance  was  glinted  back, 

From  lance  and  glaive,  from  targe  and  jacii,— 

The  next,  all  unrellected,  shone 

On  bracken  green,  and  cold  gray  stone. 

XI. 

Fitz-James  looked  round — yet  scarce  believed 

The  witness  that  his  si^ht  received ; 

Such  apparition  well  might  seem 

Delusion  of  a  dreadful  dream. 

Sir  Roderick  in  suspense  he  eyed, 

And  to  his  look  the  Ciiief  replied, 

"Fear  nought — nay,  that  I  need  not  say — 

But — doubt  not  aught  from  mine  array. 

Thou  art  my  guest ;  I  pledged  my  word 

As  far  as  Coilantoglo  ford  : 

Nor  would  I  call  a  clansman's  brand 

For  aid  against  one  valiant  hand. 

Though  on  our  strife  lay  every  vale 

Rent  by  the  Saxon  from  the  Gael. 

So  move  we  on  ;  1  only  meant 

To  show  the  reed  on  which  you  leant, 

Deeming  this  path  you  might  pursue 

Without  a  pass  Irom  Roderick  Dhu.'" 

They  moved. — I  said  Fitz-James  was  brave. 

As  ever  knight  that  belted  glaive  ; 

Yet  dare  not  say,  that  now  his  blood 

Kept  on  its  wont  and  tempered  flood. 

As.  following  Roderick's  stride,  he  drew 

That  seeming  lonesome  pathway  through. 

Which  yei,  by  fearful  proof,  was  rife 

With  lances,  that  to  idkc  his  life 


Canto  V.  THE  COIVIBAT.  IH 

Waited  but  signal  from  a  guide, 
So  late  dishonoured  and  defied. 
Ever,  by  stealth,  his  eye  sought  rouKd 
The  vanisiicd  guardians  of  the  ground, 
And  still  from  copse  and  heather  deep. 
Fancy  saw  spear  and  broadsword  peep, 
And  in  the  plover's  shrilly  strain, 
The  signal  whistle  heard  again. 
Nftr  breathed  he  free  till  far  behind 
The  pass  was  left ;  for  then  the  wind 
Along  a  wide  and  level  green, 
Where  neither  tree  nor  tuft  was  seen, 
Nor  rush,  nor  bush  of  broom  was  near. 
To  hide  a  bonnet  or  a  spear. 

XII. 

The  chief  in  silence  strode  before, 
And  reached  that  torrent's  sounding  shore, 
Which,  daughter  of  three  mighty  lakes, 
From  Vennachar  in  silver  breaks. 
Sweeps  through  the  plain,  and  ceaseless  mines 
On  Bochastlc  the  mouldering  lines, 
Where  Rome,  the  Empress  of  the  world, 
Of  yore  her  eagle  wings  unfurl'd. 
And  hero  his  course  the  Chieftain  staid, 
Threw  down  his  target  and  his  plaid, 
And  to  the  lowland  Vv^arrior  said  :— 
"  Bold  Saxon !  to  his  promise  just, 
Vich-Alpine  has  discharged  his  trust. 
This  murderous  chief,  this  ruthless  man. 
This  head  of  a  rebellious  clan, 
Hath  led  thee  safe,  through  w\atch  and  ward. 
Far  past  Clan-Alpine's  outmost  guard. 
Now,  man  to  man,  and  steel  to  steel, 
A  chieftain's  vengeance  thou  shalt  feel. 
See,  here,  all  vantageless  I  stand, 
Armed,  like  thyself,  with  single  brand ; 
For  this  is  Coilantogle  ford, 
And  thon  must  keep  tJico  with  thv  sword.' 
H 


114  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.     Canto  V. 

XUL 

The  Saxon  paused  : — "  I  no''or  delayed, 

When  foeman  bade  me  draw  my  blade  ; 

Nay  more,  brave  Chief,  I  vow'd  thy  death : 

Yet  sure  thy  fair  and  generous  faiili, 

And  my  deep  debt  for  life  preserved, 

A  better  meed  have  well  deserv'd : 

Can  nought  but  blood  our  feud  atone? 

Are  there  no  means?''  "No,  Stranger,  none' 

And  hear, — to  fire  thy  Hagging  zeal, — 

The  Saxon  cause  rests  on  thy  steel ; 

For  thus  spoke  Fate  by  prophet  bred 

Between  the  living  and  tho  dead  ; 

"  Who  spills  the  foremost  foeman's  life, 

His  party  conquers  in  the  strife/' — 

"  Then,  by  my  word,'"  the  Saxon  said, 

"  The  riddle  is  already  read. 

Seek  yonder  brake  beneath  the  cliff, — 

There  lies  Red  Murdoch,  stark  and  stiff. 

Thus  Fate  has  solved  her  prophcc}', 

Then  yield  to  Fate,  and  not  to  me. 

To  James,  at  Stirling,  let  us  go. 

When,  if  thou  wilt  be  still  his  foe, 

Or  if  the  King  shall  not  agree 

To  grant  thee  grace  and  favour  free, 

I  plight  ni'ne  honour,  oalh,  and  word, 

Tiiat,  to  thy  native  strengths  restored. 

With  eacji  advantage  shall  thou  stand, 

That  aids  thee  now  to  guard  thy  land." — 

XIV. 

Dark  lightninrr  flashed  from  Roderick's  eyo— 
"•  Soars  thy  presumption,  then,  so  high, 
Because  a  wretched  kerne  ye  slew. 
Homage  to  name  to  Roderick  Dhu? 
He  yields  not,  he,  to  man  nor  Fate  ! 
Thou  add'st  but  fuel  to  rny  hate  : — 
My  clansman's  blood  dem'an-d-^  revenge. — 
Not  yet  prepared  i" — By  heaven.  I  change 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  115 

My  thought,  and  hold  thy  valour  liffht 
As  that  of  some  vain  carpet  knight. 
Who  ill  deserved  my  courteous  care. 
And  whose  best  boast  is  but  to  wear 
A  braid  of  his  fair  lady's  hair." — 
— "  I  thank  thee,  R-odcrick,  for  the  word  1 
It  nerves  my  heart,  it  steels  my  sword  ; 
For  I  have  sworn  this  braid  to  stain 
In  Uie  best  blood  that  warms  thy  vein. 
Now,  truce,  farewell  I  and  ruth,  be  gone  I — 
Yet  think  not  that  by  thee  alone. 
Proud  Chief  1  can  courtesy  be  shown  ; 
Though  not  from  copse,  or  heath,  or  cairn, 
Start  a,t  my  whistle  clansmen  stern. 
Of  this  small  liorn  one  feeble  blast 
Would  fearful  odds  against  thee  cast. 
But  fear  not — doubt  not — which  thou  wilt 
We  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt." — 
Then  each  at  once  his  falchion  drew, 
Each  on  the  ground  his  scabbard  threw, 
Each  looked  to  sun,  and  stream,  and  plain, 
As  what  they  ne'er  might  see  again ; 
Then,  foot,  and  point,  and  eye  opposed. 
In  dubious  strife  they  darkly  closed. 

XV. 

Ill  fared  it  then  with  Roderick  Dhu, 
That  on  the  field  his  targe  he  threw. 
Whose  brazen  studs  and  tough  bull-hide 
Had  death  so  often  dashed  aside ; 
Eor,  trained  abroad  his  arms  to  wield, 
Fitz- James's  blade  was  sword  and  shield. 
He  practised  every  pass  and  ward. 
To  thrust,  to  strike,  to  feint,  to  guard; 
While  less  expert,  though  stronger  far, 
The  Gael  maintained  unequal  war. 
Three  times  in  closing  striie  they  stood, 
And  thrice  the  Saxon  sword  drank  blood; 
No  stinted  draught,  no  scanty  tide. 
The  gushing  flood  the  tartans  died. 


116  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

Fierce  Roderick  felt  the  fatal  drain, 
And  showered  his  blows  like  wintry  rain ; 
And,  as  firm  rock,  or  castle-roof. 
Against  the  winter  shower  is  proof, 
The  foe  invuln.?rable  still 
Foiled  his  wild  rage  by  steady  skill ; 
Till,  at  advantage  ta'en,  his  brand 
Forced  Roderick's  weapon  from  his  hand. 
And,  backwards  borne  upon  the  lee, 
Brought  the  proud  Chieftain  to  his  knee. 

XVL 

"  Now,  yield  thee,  or,  by  Him  who  made 

The  world,  thy  heart's  blood  dies  my  blade  I'* 

'''  Thy  threats,  thy  mercy,  I  defy  I 

Let  recreant  yield  who  fears  to  die," — 

Like  adder  darting  from  his  coil, 

Like  wolf  that  dashes  through  the  toil, 

Like  mountain-cat  who  guards  he-  young, 

Full  at  Fitz- James's  throat  he  sprung, 

Received,  but  reck'd  not  of  a  wound, 

And  locked  his  arms  liis  foeman  round. — 

Now,  gallant  Saxon,  hold  thine  own  I 

No  maiden's  hand  is  round  thee  throv/n  ! 

That  desperate  grasp  thy  frame  might  feel. 

Through  bars  of  brass  and  triple  steel  I 

They  tug,  they  strain  ; — down,  down  they  go 

The  Gael  above,  Fitz-Jamcs  below. 

The  Cbieftain's  gripe  his  throat  compress 'd. 

His  knee  was  planted  in  his  breast ; 

His  clotted  locks  he  backward  threw, 

Across  his  brow  his  hand  lie  drew, 

From  blood  and  mist  to  clear  his  sight, 

Then  gleam'd  aloft  his  dagger  bright ! — 

But  hate  and  fury  ill  supplied 

The  stream  of  life's  exhausted  tide. 

And  all  too  late  the  advantage  came. 

To  turn  the  odds  of  deadly  ganiie ; 

For,  while  the  dagger  gleam'd  on  high. 

Reeled  soul  and  sense,  reeled  brain  and  eye. 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  117 

Down  came  llie  blov !  but  in  the  heath 
The  erring  blade  found  bloodless  sheath. 
Tlie  strug-o-lincr  foe  may  now  unclasp 
The  faintiny  Chief's  relaxing  grasp  ; 
Unwounded  from  the  dreadful  close, 
But  breathless  all,  Fitz-James  arose. 

XVII. 

He  faltered  thanks  to  Heaven  for  hfe, 

Redeemed,  unhoped,  from  desperate  strife ; 

Next  on  his  foe  his  look  he  cast, 

Whose  every  gasp  appeared  his  last; 

In  Roderick's  gore  he  dippM  the  braid, — 

"  Poor  Blanche  !  thy  wrongs  are  dearly  paid; 

Yet  with  thy  foe  must  die,  or  live, 

The  praise  that  Faith  and  Valour  give." 

With  that  he  blew  a  bugle-note, 

Undid  the  collar  from  his  throat, 

Unbonn-eted,  and  by  the  wave 

Sate  down  his  brow  and  hands  to  lave. 

Then  faint  afar  are  heard  the  feet 

Of  rushing  steeds  in  gallop  fleet ; 

The  sounds  increase,  and  now  are  seen 

Four  mounted  squires  in  Lincoln  green ; 

Two  vvho  bear  lance,  and  two  who  lead, 

By  loosened  rein,  a  saddled  steed ; 

Each  onward  held  his  headlong  course. 

And  by  Fitz-James  reined  up  his  horse, — 

With  wonder  viewed  the  bloody  spot — 

— "Exclaim  not,  gallants  I  question  not — 

You,  Herbert  and  Luffness,  alight. 

And  bind  the  wounds  of  3'onder  knight ; 

Let  the  gray  palfrey  bear  his  weight. 

We  destined  for  a  fairer  freight, 

And  bring  liim  on  to  Stirling  straiglit ; 

I  will  before  at  better  speed. 

To  seek  fresh  horse  and  fitting  weed. 

The  sun  rides  high  ; — ^I  must  be  boune 

To  see  tlie  archer-game  at  noon ; 


113  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V. 

But  lightly  Bayard  clears  the  lea. — 
De  Vaux  and  Herries,  follow  mc. 

XVIII. 

**  Stand,  Bayard,  stand  !" — the  steed  obeyed. 

With  arching  neck  and  bended  liead, 

And  glancing  eye,  and  quivering  ear, 

As  if  he  loved  his  lord  to  hear. 

No  foot  Fitz- James  in  stirrup  staid, 

No  grasp  upon  the  saddle  laid, 

But  wreathed  his  left  hand  in  the  mane, 

And  lightly  bounded  from  the  plain, 

Turned  on  the  horse  his  armed  heel, 

And  stirred  his  courage  with  the  steel. 

Bounded  the  fiery  steed  in  air, 

The  rider  sate  erect  and  fair, 

Then  like  a  bolt  from  steel  cross-bow 

Forth  launched,  along  the  plain  they  go. 

They  dashed  that  rapid  torrent  through. 

And  up  Carhonie''s  lull  they  flew  ; 

Still  at  the  gallop  pricked  the  knight, 

His  nierry-mou  follownd  as  they  might. 

Along  thy  banks,  sv.iil  Teith  I  they  ride, 

And  in  the  race  thoy  mock  thy  tide  ; 

Torry  and  Lendrlck  now  are  past, 

And  Deanstono  lies  behind  them  cast. 

They  rise,  the  bannered  towers  of  Doune, 

They  sink  in  distant  woodland  soon  ; 

Blair-Drummond  sees  the  hoots  strike  fire, 

They  sweep  like  breeze  through  Ochtertyre ; 

They  mark,  just  glance,  and  disappear 

The  lofty  brow  of  ancient  Kier ; 

They  bathe  their  coursers'  swelling  sides, 

Dark  Forth!  amid  tiiy  sluggish  tides, 

And  on  the  opposing  shore  take  ground. 

With  plash,  with  scramble,  and  with  bound. 

Right  hand  they  leave  thy  cliffs,  Craig-Forth ' 

And  soon  tlie  bulwark  of  the  North, 

Gray  Stirling,  with  her  towers  and  town. 

Upon  their  fleet  career  looked  down. 


Canto  v'  THE  COIVIBAT.  119 

XIX. 

As  up  the  flinty  path  they  stramed, 

Siidden  his  steed  the  leader  reined ; 

.  1  ^igiiui  to  his  squire  he  flung-, 

Who  instant  to  his  stirrup  sprung  : 

"  Seest  thou,  De  Vaux,  yon  woodman  gray. 

Who  townward  holds  the  rocky  way, 

Of  stature  tall  and  poor  array.'* 

Mark'st  thou  the  firm,  yet  active  stride, 

With  which  he  scales  tjie  mountain  side  ? 

Know'st  thou  from  whence  he  comes,  or  whom?" — 

•'  No,  by  my  word  ; — a  burly  groom 

He  seems,  v/ho  in  the  field  or  chase 

A  baron's  train  would  nobly  grace." — 

'•  Out,  out,  De  Vaux  1  can  fear  supply, 

And  jealousy,  no  sharper  eye  ? 

Afar,  ere  to  the  liill  he  drew. 

That  stately  form  and  step  I  knew ; 

Like  form  in  Scotland  is  not  seen, 

Treads  not  such  step  on  Scottish  green. 

'Tis  James  of  Douglas,  by  saint  Serlc  ! 

The  uncle  of  the  banished  Earl. 

Away,  away,  to  court,  to  show 

The  near  approach  of  dreaded  foe  : 

The  king  must  stand  upon  his  guard ; 

Douglas  and  lie  must  meet  prepared." — 

Then  right  hand  wheeled  their  steeds,  and  straight 

They  won  the  castle's  postern  gate. 

XX. 

The  Douglas,  who  had  bent  his  way 

''rom  Cambus-Kenneth's  abbey  gray, 
1.^0 w,  as  he  climbed  the  rocky  shelf. 
Held  sad  communion  with  himself : — 
•'  Yes !  all  is  true  my  fears  could  frame 
A  prisoner  lies  the  noble  Gramme, 
And  fiery  Roderick  soon  will  feel 
The  vengeance  of  the  royal  steel. 
I,  only  I,  can  ward  their  fate, 
God  grant  tho  ransom  come  not  late  1 


120  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

The  abbess  hath  her  promise  given, 

My  child  sliall  be  the  bride  of  heaven ; — 

Be  pardoned  one  repining  tear  I 

For  he,  who  gave  lier,  knows  liow  dear 

flow  excellent — but  that  is  by, 

And  now  n:y  business  is  to  die. 

— Ye  towers  I  wilhin  wb-ose  circuit  diead 

A  Douglas  by  his  sovereign  bled. 

And  thou,  O  sad  and  fatal  mound  I* 

That  oft  liast  heard  tlie  death  a.\e  sound. 

As  on  the  noblest  of  t'\e  land 

Fell  the  stern  head-man's  bloody  hand, — 

The  dungeon,  block,  and  nameless  tomb 

Prepare,  for  Douglas  seeks  iiis  doom  I 

— But  liark  I  what  blithe  and  jolly  peal 

Makes  the  Franciscan  steeple  reel  ? 

And  see  I  upon  tbe  crowded  street. 

In  motley  groups  that  masquers  meet! 

Banner  and  pageant,  pipe  and  drum, 

And  merry  morrice-dancers  come. 

I  guess,  by  all  this  quaint  array, 

Tlie  burghers  liold  their  sports  to  day. 

James  will  be  there  ;  he  loves  such  show. 

Where  the  good  yeoman  bends  his  bow. 

And  the  tough  wrestler  foils  liis  foe, 

As  well  as  where,  in  proud  career, 

The  higli-born  tiitcr  shivers  spear. 

Fll  follow  to  the  Castle  park. 

And  play  my  prize  :  King  James  shall  mart, 

If  age  has  tamed  these  sinews  stark, 

Whose  force  so  oft,  in  happier  days, 

Uis  boyisii  wonder  loved  to  praise." 

XXI. 

The  Castle  gates  were  open  Hung, 
Tiie  quivering  drawbridge  rocked  and  rung. 
And  echoed  loud  the  flinty  street 
Beneath  the  coursers'  clattering  feet, 

•  An  eminence  on  the  northeast  of  the  castle,  whor-^^  Jtau 
criminals  were  executed.    Sec  Note. 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  I'^l 

As  slowly  dov/n  the  steep  descent 

Fair  Scotland's  King  and  nobles  went, 

While  ail  along  the  crowded  way 

Was  jubilee  and  loud  huzza. 

And  ever  James  was  bending  low, 

To  his  white  jennet's  saddle  bow, 

Doffing  liis  cap  to  city  dame, 

Who  smiled  and  blushed  for  pride  and  shame. 

And  well  the  simperer  might  be  vain, 
He  chose  the  fairest  of  the  train. 

Gravely  he  greets  each  city  sxre, 
Commends  each  pageant's  quaint  attire, 
Gives  to  tiie  dancers  thanks  aloud, 
And  smiles  and  nods  upon  the  crowd 
Who  rend  the  heavens  with  their  acclaims, 
"Long  live  the  Common's  King,  King  James?' 
Behind  the  King  thronged  peer  and  knight. 
And  noble  dame  and  damsel  bright. 
Whose  fiery  steeds  ill-brooked  the  stay 
Of  the  steep  street  and  crowded  way. 
But  in  the  train  you  nnght  discern 
Dark  lowering  brow  and  visage  stern ; 
There  nobles  mourned  their  pride  restrained. 
And  the  mean  burgher's  joys  disdained ; 
And  chiefs,  who,  hostage  for  their  clan, 
Were  each  from  home  a  banished  man, 
There  thought  upon  their  own  gray  tower, 
Their  waving  woods,  their  feudal  power. 
And  deemed  themselves  a  shameful  part 
Of  pageant  which  they  cursed  in  heart. 

xxn. 

Vow,  in  the  Castle-park  drew  out 
Their  checkered  bands  the  joyous  rout. 
There  morricers,  with  bell  at  heel. 
And  blade  in  hand,  their  mazes  wheel ; 
But  chief,  beside  the  buts,  there  stand 
Bold  Robin  Hood  and  all  his  band. 
Friar  Tuck  with  quarter-staff  and  cowl. 
Ok'  Scathlocke  with  his  surly  scowl. 


.22  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

Maid  Marian  fair  as  ivory  bone, 

Scarlet,  and  Mutch,  and  Little  John ; 

Their  bugles  challenge  all  that  will, 

In  archery  to  prove  their  skill. 

The  Douglas  bent  a  bow  of  might, — 

Ills  first  shaft  centred  in  the  white, 

And  when  in  turn  he  shot  again. 

His  second  split  the  first  in  twain. 

From  the  King's  hand  must  Douglas  take 

A  silver  dart,  the  archers'  stake  ; 

Fondly  he  watched,  with  watery  eye, 

Some  answering  glance  of  sympathy, — 

No  kind  emotion  made  reply  I 

Indifferent,  as  to  archer  wight. 

The  Monarch  gave  the  arrow  bright. 

xxin. 

Now,  clear  the  Ring  I  for,  hand  to  hand, 
The  manly  wrestlers  take  their  stand. 
Tsvo  o'er  the  rest  superior  rose. 
And  proud  demanded  mighlier  foes, 
Nor  called  in  vain  ;  for  Douglas  came. 
— For  life  is  Hugh  of  Larbert  lame. 
Scarce  better  John  of  Alloa's  fare. 
Whom  senseless  home  his  comrades  bear. 
Prize  of  the  wrestling  match,  the  King 
To  Douglas  gave  a  golden  ring. 
While  coldly  glanced  his  eye  of  blue. 
As  frozen  drop  of  wintry  dew. 
Douglas  would  speak,  but  in  his  breast 
His  striiijgling  soul  his  words  surprcss'd  : 
Indignant  then  he  turned  him  where 
Their  arms  the  brawny  yeoman  bare, 
To  hurl  the  massive  bar  in  air. 
When  each  his  utmost  strength  had  shown, 
The  Douglas  rent  an  earth-fast  stone 
From  its  deep  bed,  then  heaved  it  high, 
And  sent  the  fragment  through  the  sky, 
A  rood  beyond  the  farthest  mark : — 
And  still  in  SlirHng's  royal  park. 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  123 

The  gray-haired  sires,  who  know  the  past. 
To  strangers  point  the  Douglas  cast, 
And  moraUzo  on  the  decay 
Of  Scottish  strength  in  modern  day. 

XXIV. 

The  vale  with  loud  applauses  rang, 
The  Ladies'  Rock  sent  back  the  clang. 
The  king,  with  look  unmoved,  bestowed 
A  purse  well  filled  with  pieces  broad. 
Indignant  smiled  the  Douglas  proud. 
And  threw  the  gold  among  the  crowd 
Who  nov;,  with  anxious  wonder,  scan. 
And  sharper  glance,  the  dark  grey  man ; 
Till  whispers  rose  among  the  throng, 
That  heart  so  free,  and  hand  so  strong, 
Must  to  the  Douglas  blood  belong  : 
The  old  men  mark'd,  and  shook  the  head, 
To  see  his  hair  with  silver  spread. 
And  winked  aside,  and  told  each  son 
Of  feats  upon  the  English  done, 
Ere  Douglas  of  the  stalwart  hand 
Was  exiled  from  his  native  land. 
The  women  praised  his  stately  form, 
Though  wrecked  by  many  a  wintery  stor 
The  youth  with  awe  and  wonder  saw 
His  strength  surpassing  nature's  law. 
Thus  judged,  as  is  their  wont,  the  crowd, 
Till  murmurs  rose  to  clamours  loud. 
But  not  a  glance  from  that  proud  ring 
Of  peers  who  circled  round  the  King, 
With  Douglas  held  communion  kind. 
Or  called  the  banished  man  to  mind; 
No,  not  from  tliosc  who,  at  the  chase, 
Once  held  his  side  the  honoured  place, 
Begirt  his  board,  and,  in  the  field, 
Found  safety  underneath  his  shield ; 
For  he,  whom  royal  eyes  disown. 
When  was  his  form  to  courtiers  known** 


124  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

XXV. 

The  Monai  3h  saw  tlie  gambols  flag, 

And  bade  let  loose  a  gallant  stag, 

Whose  pride,  tlic  holy  day  to  crown, 

Two  favourite  griy-hounds  should  pull  down, 

That  venison  free,  and  Eourdeaux  wine, 

Might  serve  the  archery  to  dine. 

But  Lufra, — whom  from  Douglas"  side 

Nor  bribe  nor  threat  could  e'er  divide, 

The  fleetest  hound  in  all  the  North, — 

Brave  Lufra  saw,  and  darted  forth. 

She  left  the  royal  hounds  midway. 

And  dashing  on  the  antler'd  prey  ; 

Sunk  her  sharp  muzzle  in  his  flank, 

And  deep  the  flowing  life-blood  drank. 

The  King's  stout  huntsman  saw  the  sport 

By  strange  intruder  broken  short, 

Came  up,  and  with  his  leash  unbound 

In  anger  struck  the  noble  hound. 

— The  Douglas  had  endured,  that  mom, 

The  King's  cold  look,  the  nobles'  scorn, 

And  last,  and  worst  to  spirit  proud. 

Had  borne  the  pity  of  the  crowd ; 

But  Lufra  had  been  fondly  bred. 

To  share  his  board,  to  watch  his  bed. 

And  ofl  would  Ellen,  Lufra's  neck. 

In  maiden  glee,  with  garlands  deck; 

They  where  such  play-mates,  that  with  name 

Of  Lufra  Ellen's  image  came. 

His  stifled  wrath  is  brimming  high, 

In  darkened  brow  and  flashing  eye  ; 

As  waves  before  the  bark  divide, 

I'he  crowd  gave  way  before  iiis  stride  ; 

Needs  but  a  buffet  and  no  more. 

The  groom  lies  senseless  in  his  gore. 

Such  blow  no  other  hand  could  deal, 

Though  gauntleted  in  glove  of  steel. 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  125 

XXVI. 

Clamoured  his  comrades  of  the  train, 

And  brandished  swords  and  staves  amain. 

But  stern  the  Baron's  warning — "  Back.  I 

Back  on  your  hves,  ye  menial  pack ! 

Beware  the  Douglas. — Yes !  behold, 

King  James,  the  Douglas,  doomed  of  old. 

And  vainly  sought  for  near  and  far, 

A  victim  to  atone  the  war, 

A  willing  victim,  now  attends, 

Nor  craves  thy  grace  but  for  his  friends." 

— ^"  Thus  is  my  clemency  repaid, 

Presumptuous  Lord !"  the  Monarch  said ; 

"  Of  thy  mis-proud  ambitious  clan. 

Thou,  James  of  Bothwell,  wert  the  man. 

The  only  man,  in  whom  a  foe 

My  woman-mercy  would  not  know  • 

But  shall  a  Monarch's  presence  brook 

Injurious  blow,  and  haughty  look  ? — 

What  ho  1  The  Captain  of  our  Guard  ! 

Give  the  offender  fitting  ward. — 

Break  off  the  sports  !" — for  tumult  rose. 

And  yeomen  'gan  to  bend  thsir  bows, — ■ 

"Break  off  the  sports  I" — ha  eaid,  and  frowned. 

"And  bid  our  horsemen  clear  the  ground  " — 

XXVII. 

Then  uproar  wild  and  misarray 

Marr'd  the  fair  form  of  festal  day. 

The  horsemen  pricked  among  the  crowd. 

Repelled  by  threats  and  insult  loud  ; 

To  earth  are  borne  the  old  and  weak. 

The  timorous  fly,  the  women  shriek ; 

\Vith  flint,  with  shaft,  with  staff,  with  bar, 

Tlie  hardier  urge  tumultuous  war. 

At  once  round  Douglas  darkly  sweep 

Tne  royal  spoars  in  circle  deep,  ♦ 

And  slowly  scale  the  pathway  steep  ^ 

While  on  their  rear  in  thunder  pour 

The  rabble  with  disordered  roar. 


126  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

With  grief  the  noble  Douglas  saw 
The  commons  rise  against  the  law, 
And  to  the  leading  soldier  said, — 
"  Sir  John  of  Hyndford  1  'twas  my  blade. 
That  knighthood  on  thy  shoulder  laid  ; 
For  that  good  deed,  permit  me  then, 
A  word  with  these  misguided  men. — 

XXVIII. 
"  Hear,  gentle  friends  1  ere  yet,  for  me, 
Ye  break  the  bands  of  fealty. 
My  life,  my  honour,  and  my  cause, 
[  tender  free  to  Scotland's  laws  ; 
Arc  these  so  weak  as  must  require 
The  aid  of  your  misguided  ire? 
Or,  if  I  suffer  causeless  wrong, 
Is  then  my  selfish  rage  so  strong, 
My  sense  of  public  weal  so  low, 
Tiiat,  for  mean  vengeance  on  a  foe. 
Those  chords  of  love  I  should  unbind. 
Which  knit  my  country  and  my  kind.^ 
Oh  no  I  Believe,  in  yonder  tower 
It  will  not  sooth  my  captive  hour, 
To  know  those  spears  our  foes  should  dread, 
For  me  in  kindred  gore  are  red ; 
To  know  in  fruitless  brawl  begun. 
For  me,  that  mother  wails  her  son  ; 
For  me,  that  widcv-v^'s  mate  expires. 
For  me,  that  orphans  weep  their  sires. 
That  patriots  mourn  insulted  laws. 
And  curse  the  Douglas  for  the  cause. 
O  let  your  patience  ward  such  ill. 
And  keep  your  right  to  love  me  still  l" — 

XXIX. 

The  crow'd's  wild  fury  sunk  agam 
In  tears,  as  tempests  melt  in  rain. 
With  lifted  hands  and  eyes,  they  prayed 
For  blessings  on  his  generous  head, 
Who  for  his  country  felt  alone, 
And  prized  her  blood  beyond  his  own. 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  VT 

Old  men,  upon  the  verge  of  life, 

Blessed  him  who  stayed  the  civil  strife ; 

And  mothers  held  their  babes  on  high 

The  self-devoted  chief  to  spy, 

Triumphant  over  wrong  and  ire, 

To  whom  the  prattlers  owed  a  sire : 

Even  the  rough  soldier's  heart  was  moved. 

As  if  behind  some  bier  beloved, 

With  traihng  arms  and  drooping  head, 

The  Douglas  up  the  hill  they  led, 

And  at  the  castle's  battled  verge. 

With  sighs,  resio^ned  their  honoured  charge. 

XXX. 

The  oftended  monarch  rode  apart. 
With  bitter  thought  and  swelling  heart, 
And  would  not  now  vouchsafe  again 
Through  Stirling  streets  to  lead  his  train. 
"  O  Lennox,  who  would  wish  to  rule 
This  changeling  crowd,  this  common  fool ! 
Hear'st  thou,''  he  said,  "  the  loud  acclaim, 
With  which  they  shout  the  Douglas  name  ? 
With  like  acclaim,  the  vulgar  throat 
Strained  for  King  James  their  morning  note; 
With  like  acclaim  they  hail  the  day 
When  first  I  broke  the  Douglas  sway ; 
And  like  acclaim  would  Douglas  greet, 
If  he  could  hurl  me  from  my  seat. 
Who  o'er  the  herd  would  wish  to  reign, 
Fantastic,  fickle,  fierce,  and  vain  ? 
Vain  as  the  leaf  upon  the  stream. 
And  fickle  as  a  changeful  dream  ; 
Fantastic  as  a  woman's  mood, 
And  fierce  as  frenzy's  fevered  blood. 
Thou  many-headed  m.onster-thing 
O  who  would  wish  o  be  thy  king  I — 

XXXI. 

''  Bu^  soft!  what  messenger  of  speed 
Sp^,  ^  hitherwaid  his  panting  stcfcJ  f 


128  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

1  ^ess  his  cognizance  afar — 
What  from  our  cousin,  John  of  Mar?" 
"  Ho  prays  my  hegc,  your  sports  keep  bound 
Within  tlie  safe  and  guarded  ground : 
For  some  foul  purpose  yet  unknown, — 
Most  sure  for  evil  to  the  throne, — 
The  outlawed  Chieftain,  R.odcrick  Dbu, 
Has  summoned  his  rebellious  crew ; 
Tis  said,  in  James  of  Bothwell's  aid 
These  loose  banditti  stand  arrayed. 
The  Earl  of  Mar,  this  morn,  from  Doune, 
To  break  their  muster  marched,  and  soon 
Your  grace  will  hear  of  battle  fought; 
But  earnestly  the  Earl  besought, 
Till  for  such  danger  he  provide, 
With  scanty  train  you  will  not  ride." — 

XXXII. 

*  Thou  wam'st  me  I  have  done  amiss, — 
I  should  have  earlier  looked  to  tliis ; 
I  lost  it  in  this  bustling  day. 
— Retrace  with  speed  thy  former  way ; 
Spare  not  for  spoiling  of  thy  steed. 
The  best  of  mine  shall  be  thy  meed. 
Say  to  our  faithful  Lord  of  Mar, 
We  do  forbid  the  intended  war; 
Roderick  this  morn,  in  single  fight. 
Was  made  our  prisoner  by  a  knight. 
And  Douglas  hath  himself  and  cause 
Submitted  to  our  kingdom's  laws. 
The  tidings  of  their  leaders  lost 
Will  soon  dissolve  the  mountain  host, 
Nor  would  we  that  the  vulgar  feel. 
For  their  Chief  s  crimes,  avenging  steel. 
Bear  Mar  our  message,  Braco,  fly." — 
He  turned  his  steed, — "  My  liege,  I  hie. 
Yet,  ere  I  cross  this  hly  lawn, 
I  fear  the  broad-swords  will  be  drawn-"— 
The  turf  the  flying  courser  spurned, 
And  to  his  towers  the  king  returned. 


Canto  V.  THE  COMBAT.  12& 

XXXIII. 

ni  with  King  James's  mood  that  day, 
Waited  gay  feast  and  minstrel  lay; 
Soon  were  disinissed  the  courtly  throng, 
And  soon  cut  short  the  festal  song. 
Nor  less  upon  the  saddened  town 
The  evening  sunk  in  sorrow  down : 
The  burghers  spoke  of  civil  jar, 
Of  rumoured  feuds  and  mountain  war. 
Of  Moray,  Mar,  an-d  Roderick  Dhu, 
All  up  in  arms : — ihe  Douglas  too, 
They  mourned  him  pent  witJiin  the  hold, 
"Where  stout  Earl  William  was  of  old,"* 
And  there  his  word  the  speaker  stayed, 
And  finger  on  his  lip  he  laid, 
Or  pointed  to  his  dagger  blade. 
But  jaded  horseman  from  the  west. 
At  evening  to  the  castle  pressed ; 
And  busy  talkers  said  they  bore 
Tidings  of  fight  on  Katrine's  shore } 
At  noon  the  deadly  fray  begun, 
And  lasted  till  the  set  of  sun. 
Thus  giddy  rumour  shook  the  town. 
Till  closed  the  Night  her  pennons  brown. 

*  Stabbed  by  James  II.  m  Stirling  Coeitle 


El  ID  OP  CANTO  FIFTa 


THE 

LA1>Y  OF  THS3  I.AM.E, 

CANTO  SIXTH^ 
THE    GUARD-ROOM. 

1. 

THE  sun,  awakening,  through  the  smoky  air 

Of  the  dark  city  casts  a  sullen  glance, 
Rousing  each  caitiff  to  his  task  of  care, 

Of  sinful  man  the  sad  inheritance ; 
Summoning  revellers  from  the  lagging  dance. 

And  scaring  prowling  robbers  to  their  den ; 
Gliding  on  battled  tower  the  warder's  lance. 

And  warning  student  pale  to  leave  his  pen. 
And  yield  his  drowsy  eyes  to  the  kind  nurse  of  men 

What  various  scenes,  and,  O !  what  scenes  of  wo. 
Are  witnessed  by  that  red  and  struggling  beam 

The  fevered  patient,  from  his  pallet  low, 
Through  crowded  hospitals  beholds  it  stream ; 

The  ruined  maiden  trembles  at  its  gleam, 

The  debtor  wakes  to  thoughts  of  gyve  and  jail, 

The  love-lorn  v/retch  starts  from  tormenting  dream*, 
The  walceful  mother,  by  the  glimmering  pale, 
Trims  her  sick  infant's  couch  and  sootlis  his  fee 
blp  Tvail. 

n. 

At  dawn  the  towers  of  Stirling  rang, 
With  soldier-step  and  weapon  clang, 
While  drums,  with  rolling  note,  foretell 
Relief  to  weary  sentinel. 


132  L  ADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V 

Through  narrow  loop  and  casement  barr'd 
The  sunbeams  soni^ht  the  Court  of  Guard, 
And  struggHng  with  the  smoky  air, 
Deadened  the  torches'  yellow  glare. 
In  comfortless  alhance  shone 
The  lights  through  arch  of  blackened  stone, 
And  showed  wild  shapes  in  garb  of  war. 
Faces  deformed  with  beard  and  scar, 
All  haggard  from  the  midnight  watch, 
And  fevered  with  the  stern  debauch ; 
For  the  oak  table's  massive  board, 
Flooded  with  wine,  with  fragments  stored. 
And  beakers  drained,  and  cups  overthrown. 
Showed  in  what  sport  the  night  had  flown. 
Some,  weary,  snored  on  floor  and  bench ; 
Some  laboured  still  their  tliirst  to  quench  ; 
Some  chilled  with  watching,  spread  their  hands 
O'er  the  huge  chimney's  dying  brands, 
While  round  them,  or  beside  them  flung. 
At  every  step  their  harness  rung. 

III. 

These  drew  not  for  their  fields  the  sword, 

Like  tenants  of  a  feudal  lord, 

Nor  owned  the  patriarchal  claim 

Of  chieftain  in  their  leader's  name  ; 

Adventurers  they,  from  far  who  roved, 

To  live  by  battle  which  they  loved. 

There  the  Italian's  clouded  face. 

The  swarthy  Spaniard's  there  you  trace ; 

The  mountain-loving  Switzer  there 

More  freely  breathed  in  mountain-air ; 

l"he  Fleming  there  despised  the  soil, 

That  paid  so  ill  the  labourer's  toil; 

The  rolls  showed  French  and  German  nanio. 

And  merry  Euijland's  exiles  carne, 

To  share,  \rit,li  iU"<ioncealed  disdain, 

Of  Scotia  "id'?  pay  the  scanty  gain. 

All  bravo  in  arms,  well  trained  to  wielw 

The  heavy  halbert,  brand,  and  pbi«"-.'. 


Canto  VI.    THE  GUARD- ROOM.  133 

In  camps  licentious,  wild  and  bo!  J 
In  pillage  fierce  and  uncontrolled . 
And  now,  by  holytide  and  feast, 
From  rules  of  discipUne  released. 

IV. 

They  held  debate  of  bloody  fray, 

Fought  twixt  Loch-Katrine  anS  Achray. 

Fierce  was  their  speecli,  and,  mid  their  words. 

Their  hands  oft  grappled  to  their  swords ; 

N'or  sunk  their  tone  to  spare  the  ear 

Of  wounded  comrades  groaning  near, 

Whose  mangled  limbs,  and  bodies  gored, 

Bore  token  of  the  mountain  sword, 

Though,  neighbouring  to  the  court  of  guard, 

Their  prayers  and  feverish  wails  were  heard? 

Sad  burden  to  the  ruffian  joke, 

And  savage  oath  by  fury  spoke ! — 

At  length  up  started  John  of  Brent, 

A  yeoman  from  the  banks  of  Trent ; 

A  stranger  to  respect  or  fear, 

[n  peace  a  chaser  of  the  deer, 

\n  host  a  hardy  mutineer, 

But  still  the  boldest  of  the  crew. 

When  deed  of  danger  was  to  do. 

He  grieved,  that  day  their  games  cut  short. 

And  marr'd  the  dicers'  brav/ling  sport. 

And  shouted  lend,  ''R,enew  the  bowl  I 

And,  while  a  merry  catch  I  troll, 

Let  each  the  buxom  chorus  bear, 

L.ko  brcthen  of  the  brand  and  spear." — 

V. 
SOLDIER'S  SONG. 

Our  vicar  still  preaches  that  Peter  and  Poule 
Laid  a  swinging  long  curse  on  the  bonny  brown 

bowl, 
That  there's  w^ath  and  despair  in  the  jolly  blaCiS 

jack, 
And  the  seven  deadly  sins  in  a  flagon  of  sacJi  • 


134  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE    Canto  VI. 

Yet  whoop,  Barnaby !  off  with  Ihy  liquor  1 
Drink  upseos*  out,  and  a  fig  for  tho  vicar  *. 

Our  vioar  he  calls  it  damnation  to  sip 
The  ripe  ruddy  dew  of  a  woman's  dear  lip. 
Says,  that  Belzebub  lurks  in  her  kerchief  so  sly, 
And  ApoUyon  shoots  darts  from  her  merry  black 

eye; 
Yet  whoop,  Jack!  kiss  Gillian  the  quicker, 
Till  she  bloom  liko  a  rose,  and  a  fig  for  the  viear  I 

Our  vicar  thus  preaches — and  why  should  he  not? 
For  the  dues  of  liis  cure  are  the  placket  and  pot?. 
And  'tis  right  of  his  offi'^e  poor  laymen  to  lurch. 
Who  infringe  the  domains  of  oiu*  good  mother 

Church, 
Yei  whoop,  bully-bo3's!  off  with  your  liquor. 
Sweet  Marjoric's  the   wora,  and  a  fig  for  tht 

vicar ! 

VI. 

The  warder's  challcn;ge,  heard  without, 

Stayed  in  mid  roar  tlie  merry  shout. 

A  soldier  to  the  portal  went,— 

^'  Here  is  old  Bertram,  sirs,  of  Ghent; 

And,  beat  for  jubilee  your  drum  I 

A  maid  and  minstrel  with  him  come." — ' 

Bertram,  a  Fleming,  gray  and  scarr'd. 

Was  entering  now  the  court  of  guard, 

A  harper  with  him,  and,  in  plaid 

All  muffled  close,  a  mountain  maid. 

Who  backward  shrank  to  'scape  the  view 

Of  the  loose  scene  and  boisterous  crew. 

"  What  newsr"  they  roared  : — "I  only  know. 

From  noon  till  eve  we  fought  with  foe. 

As  wild  and  as  untameable. 

As  the  rude  mountains  where  thoy  dwell. 

On  both  sides  store  of  blood  is  lost, 

Sor  inuf.h  success  can  either  boast." — 

*\  fiacchr.ntJian  hur r.oction,  borrowed  from  the  DulClJ 


Canto  VI.    THE  GUARD-ROOM.  135 

"  But  whence  thy  captives,  fncnd  ?  Such  spoil 
As  theirs  must  needs  reward  thy  toil. 
Old  dost  thou  wax,  and  wars  grove  sharp ; 
Thou  now  hast  glee-maiden  and  harp, 
Get  thee  an  ape,  and  trudge  the  land, 
The  leader  of  a  juggler  band." — 

VII. 

"  No,  comrade ; — no  such  fortune  mine. 
After  the  fight,  these  sought  our  line, 
That  aged  harper  and  the  girl. 
And,  having  audience  of  the  Earl, 
Mar  bade  I  should  purvey  the'm  steed. 
And  bring  them  hitherward  with  speed. 
Forbear  your  mirth  and  rude  alarm. 
For  none  shall  do  them  shame  or  harm." 
"  Hear  ye  his  boast  V  cried  John  of  Brent, 
Ever  to  strife  and  jangling  bent, — 
"  Shall  he  strike  doe  beside  our  lodge, 
And  yet  the  jealous  niggard  grudge 
T":>  pay  the  forester  his  fee  ? 
I'ii  have  my  share  howe'er  it  be, 
Despite  of  Moray,  Mar,  or  thee."' — 
Bertram  his  forward  step  withstood; 
And,  burning  in  his  vengeful  mood. 
Old  Allen,  though  unfit  for  strife. 
Laid  hand  upon  his  dagger-knife ; 
But  Ellen  boldly  stepped  between, 
And  dropped  at  once  the  tartan  screen; 
So,  from  his  morning  cloud,  appeal's 
The  sun  of  May,  through  summer  tears. 
The  savage  soldiery,  amazed, 
As  on  descended  angel  gazed  ; 
Even  hardy  Brent,  abashed  and  tamed, 
Stood  half  admiring,  half  ashamed. 

vm. 

Boldly  she  spoke  : — "  Soldiers,  attend 
Mjr  father  was  the  sc  Idicr's  friend ; 


136  LADY  OF  THE  LAKL.    Canto  VL 

Cheer'd  him  in  camps,  in  marches  led. 

And  with  him  in  the  battle  bled. 

Not  from  tlie  valiant  or  the  strong", 

Should  exile's  dano-hter  suffer  K-Tong."- 

Answcrcd  De  Bront.  nio?t  forward  stUl 

In  every  feat  or  good  or  ill — 

"  I  shame  tne  of  the  part  I  played  ; 

And  thou  an  outlaw's  child,  poor  maid! 

An  out' aw  I  by  Forest  laws, 

And  merry  Neodwood  knows  the  cause. 

Poor  Rose, — if  Rose  be  livino-  now,'' — 

He  wiped  his  iron  eye  and  brow, 

"•  Must  bear  such  age,  I  think,  as  thou.— 

Hear  ye,  my  mates  ; — I  j^o  to  call 

The  captain  cf  our  watch  to  hall : 

There  lies  my  halbert  on  the  floor; 

And  he  that  steps  my  halbert  o'er, 

To  do  the  maid  injurious  part, 

My  shaft  shall  quiver  in  his  heart  I — 

Beware  loose  speech,  or  jesting^  rough  : 

Ye  all  know  John  dc  Brent.  Enough." — 

.      IX. 

Their  captain  came,  a  gallant  young,--- 
(Of  Tullibardine's  house  he  sprung:) 
Nor  wore  he  yet  the  spurs  of  kni<rht; 
Gay  was  his  mien,  his  humour  licrht 
And,  though  by  courtesy  controlled. 
Forward  his  speech,  liis  bearing  bold. 
The  hitrhbom  maiden  !".i  could  brook 
The  scanning  of  his  curious  look 
And  dauitlcss  eye; —  and  yet,  in  sooth, 
Younor  Lewis  was  a  sfcnerous  youth ; 
But  Ellen's  lo^'ely  face  and  mien, 
Ill-suited  to  the  garb  and  scene, 
Miijht  lightly  bear  construction  strange, 
And  give  l(»f»se  fancy  scope  to  -an^e. 
—"Welcome  to  Stirling  tov.v;. ,  fair  maid  I 
Come  ye  to  seek  a  champion's  aid. 


Canto  -/I.    THE  GUARD-ROOM.  137 

On  pa?frey  white,  with  harper  hoar, 

Like  errant  damosel  of  yore  ? 

Does  thy  high  quest  a  kniglit  require  ? 

Or  may  the  venture  suit  a  squire  ?"' — 

Her  dark  eye  flash'd  ; — she  paused  and  sighed, 

"  O  what  liave  I  to  do  with  pride ! — 

— Through  scenes  of  sorrow,  shame,  -djiU  strife, 

A  supphant  for  a  father's  life, 

I  crave  an  audience  of  the  King, 

Behold,  to  back  my  suit,  a  ring, 

The  royal  pledge  of  grateful  claims. 

Given  by  tne  Monarch  to  Fitz-James." — 

X. 

The  sigtiet  rinw  young  Lewis  took, 

With  deep  respect  and  altered  look ; 

And  said, — "•  This  ring  our  duties  own; 

And  pardon,  if,  to  worth  unknown, 

In  semblance  mean  obscurely  veiled, 

Lady,  in  aught  my  folly  failed. 

Soon  as  the  day  flings  wide  his  gates, 

The  King  shall  know  what  suitor  waits. 

Please  you,  meanwhile,  in  fitting  bower 

Repose  you  till  his  waking  hour; 

Female  attendance  shall  obey  ^ 

Your  best  for  service  or  array. 

Permit  I  marshal  you  the  way." — 

But,  ere  she  follov/ed,  with  the  grace 

And  open  bounty  of  her  race. 

She  bade  her  slender  purse  be  shared 

Among  the  soldiers  of  tlie  guard. 

The  rest  with  thanks  their  guerdon  too» 

But  Brent  with  sly  and  awkward  look, 

On  the  reluctant  maiden's  liold 

Forced  bluntly  back  the  proffered  gold : 

*'•  Forgive  a  hauglity  English  heart, 

And  O  forget  its  ruder  parti 

The  vacant  purse  shall  be  my  share, 

Which  in  my  barrat-cap  Til  bear. 


138  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  VI 

Perchance,  in  jeopardy  of  war, 
Where  gayer  crests  jnay  keep  afar." — 
With  tiianks, — 'twas  al)  she  could, — the  maid 
His  rugged  courtesy  repaid. 

XI. 
When  Ellen  forth  with  Lewis  went, 
Allan  made  suit  to  John  of  Brent : — 
"My  lady  safe,  O  let  your  j:race 
Give  me  to  see  my  master's  face  I 
Plis  minstrel  1, — to  share  his  doom 
Bound  from  tlic  cradle  to  the  tomb. 
Tenth  in  descent,  since  first  my  sires 
Waked  for  his  noble  house  their  lyres, 
Nor  one  of  all  the  race  was  known 
But  prized  its  weal  above  tiieir  own. 
With  the  Chief's  birth  begins  our  caro  ; 
Our  harp  must  sooth  the  infant  heir, 
Teach  the  youth  tales  of  fight,  and  grace 
His  earliest  feat  of  field  or  chase ; 
In  peace,  in  war,  our  rank  we  keep. 
We  cheer  his  board,  we  sooth  his  sleep, 
Nor  leave  him  till  we  pour  our  verse, 
A  doleful  tribute  I  o'er  his  hearse. 
Then  let  me  share  his  captive  lot ; 
It  is  my  right — deny  it  not  I" — 
"  Little  we  reck,''  said  John  of  Brent, 
"\Vp  Southern  men.  o^  lonij  descent 
Nor  wot  we  how  a  name — a  word- 
Makes  clansmen  vassals  to  a  lord : 
Yet  kind  my  noble  landlord's  part, — 
Tod  bless  the  house  of  Beaudcsert . 
And,  but  I  loved  to  drive  the  deer. 
More  than  to  guide  the  labouring  stecr» 
I  had  not  dwelt  an  outcast  here. 
Come,  good  old  Minstrel,  follow  me; 
Thy  Lord  and  Chieftain  shall  thou  see." 

XIL 

Then,  from  a  rusted  iron  hook, 

A  bunch  of  ponderous  keys  he  tcok, 


Canto  VI.    THE  GUARD-ROOM.  139 

Lighted  a  torch,  and  Allan  led 

Through  grated  arch  and  passage  dread. 

Portals  they  passed,  where,  deep  within, 

Spoke  prisoner's  moan,  and  fetters'  din ; 

Through  rugged  vaults,  where,  loosely  stored. 

Lay  wheel,  and  axe,  and  headsman's  sword, 

And  many  a  hideous  engine  grim. 

For  wrenching  joint,  and  crushinc  limb, 

By  artists  formed,  who  deemed  it  shame 

And  sin  to  give  their  work  a  name. 

They  halted  at  a  low-browed  porch, 

And  Brent  to  Allan  gave  the  torch, 

While  bolt  and  chain  he  backward  rolled. 

And  made  the  bar  unhasp  its  hold. 

They  entered  : — 'twas  a  prison-room 

Of  stern  security  and  gloom, 

Yet  not  a  dungeon ;  for  the  day 

Through  lofiy  gratings  found  its  way, 

And  rude  and  antique  garniture 

Decked  tlie  sad  walls  and  flirty  floor. 

"  Here,"''  said  De  Brent,  "  thou  may'st  remain  ;"— 

And  then,  retiring,  bolt  and  chain, 

And  rusty  bar  he  drew  again. 

{loused  at  the  sound,  from  lowly  bed 

A  captive  feebly  raised  his  head ; 

The  wondering  Minstrel  looked,  and  knew 

Xot  his  dear  lord,  but  Roderick  Dhu '. 

For,  come  from  where  Clan-Alpine  fought, 

They,  erring,  deemed  the  Chief  he  sought. 

XIIL 

As  the  tall  ship,  whose  lofty  proro 
Shall  never  stem  the  billows  more. 
Deserted  by  her  gallant  band, 
Amid  the  brealicrs  lies  astrand, — 
S.J,  on  his  couch,  lay  Roderick  Dh'^ ' 
And  oft  his  fevered  hmbs  he  threw 
In  toss  abrupt,  as  when  her  sides 
Lie  rockinir  Ln  the  advancing  tides. 


140  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.  Canto  VI 

That  shake  her  frame  with  ceaseless  beat, 

Yet  cannot  heave  her  from  her  seat ; — 

O  !   how  unUke  her  course  on  sea  I 

Or  his  free  step  on  hill  and  lea  1 — 

Soon  as  the  Minstrel  he  could  scan, 

— '•  What  of  thy  lady?  of  my  clan  ? — 

My  mother  r — Douglas  ? — tell  nie  all  I 

Have  they  been  ruined  in  my  fall  ? 

Ah,  yes  !  or  wlierefore  art  thou  here? 

Yet  speak, — speak  boldly. — do  not  fear.'  — 

(For  Allan,  who  his  mood  well  knew. 

Was  choked  with  grief  and  terror  too.) — 

"  W1io  fought — who  fled? — Old  man,  be  brief:— 

Some  might — for  they  had  lost  their  Chief, 

Who  basely  live  ? — who  bravely  died  ?'' — 

"O,  calm  thee,  Chief!"  the  Minstrel  cried, 

"  Ellen  is  safe ;'' — ''  For  that,  thank  heaven  I" 

"  And  liopes  are  for  the  Douglas  given  ;— 

The  Lady  Margaret  too  is  well. 

And,  for  thy  clan, — on  field  or  fell, 

Has  never  harp  of  minstrel  told. 

Of  combat  fought  so  true  and  bold. 

Thy  stately  pine  is  yet  unbent. 

Though  many  a  goodly  bough  is  rent." 

XIV. 

The  Chieftain  reared  his  form  on  high, 
And  fever's  fire  was  in  his  eye ; 
But  ghastly,  pale,  and  livid  streaks 
Checkered  his  swarthy  brow  and  cheeks. 
— "  Hark,  Minstrel  1  I  have  heard  thee  play. 
With  measure  bold  on  festal  day. 
In  yon  lone  isle, — again  where  ne'er 
ShaU  harper  play,  or  warrior  hear, — 
That  stirring  air  that  peals  on  high, 
O'er  Dermids  race  our  victory. — 
Strike  it ! — and  then,  (for  well  thou  canst) 
Free  from  tny  minstrel-spirit  glanced, 
Fling  me  the  p.cture  of  the  fight. 
When  met  m^^  clan  the  Sason  might 


Canto  VI.    THE  GUARD-ROOM.  141 

['II  listen,  till  my  fancy  liears 

The  clanff  of  swords,  the  crash  of  spears! 

These  grates,  these  walls,  shall  vanish  tlien. 

For  the  fair  field  of  fiyhting  men. 

And  my  free  spirit   burst  away, 

As  if  it  soared  from  battle  fray." 

The  trembliritT  bard  with  awe  obeyed,— 

Slow  on  the  harp  his  liand  he  laid ; 

But  soon  remembrance  of  the  sight 

He  witnessed  from  the  mountainV;  heiglit, 

With  what  old  Bertram  told  at  night. 

Awakened  t}\e  full  power  of  song. 

And  bore  him  in  career  along  : — 

As  shallop  launched  on  river's  tide, 

That  slow  and  fearful  leaves  the  side, 

But,  when  it  feels  the  middle  stream. 

Drives  downward  swift  as  lightnmg's  beair 

XV. 
y  BATTLE  OF  BEAL'  AN  DUINE 

"  The  Minstrel  came  once  more  to  view 
The  eastern  ridge  of  Benvenue, 
For,  ere  he  parted,  he  would  say 
Farewell  to  lovely  Loch-Achray — 
Where  shaU  he  find,  in  foreign  land, 
So  lone  a  lake,  so  sweet  a  strand  ! 
-    There  is  no  breeze  upon  the  fern, 
No  ripple  on  the  lake, 
Upon  her  eyrie  nods  the  erne, 

The  deer  has  sought  the  brake; 
The  small  birds  will  not  sing  aloud, 

The  springing  trout  lies  still. 
So  darkly  glooms  yon  thunder  cloud. 
That  swathes,  as  with  a  purple  shroud 

Benledi's  distant  hill, 
[s  it  the  thunder's  solemn  sound 
That  mutters  deep  and  dread, 
Or  echoes  from  the  groaning  ground 
The  warrior's  measured  troad  '* 


142  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  VL 

Is  it  the  lightning's  quivering  glance 

That  on  the  tliicket  streams, 
Or  do  they  flash  on  spear  and  lance 
The  sun's  retiring  beams? 
I  see  the  dagger-crest  of  Mar, 
I  see  the  Moray's  silver  star, 
Wave  o'er  the  cloud  of  Saxon  war, 
That  up  the  lake  comes  winding  far  I 
To  hero  boune  for  battle-strife, 

Or  bard  of  martial  lay, 
*Twere  worth  ten  years  of  peaceful  life. 
One  glance  at  tiieir  array. 

^^  XVI. 

"Their  light-armed  archers  far  and  near 

Surveyed  the  tangled  ground, 
Their  centre  ranks,  with  pike  and  spear, 

A  twilight  forest  frowned ; 
Their  barbed  horsemen,  in  the  rear, 

The  stem  battalia  crowned. 
No  cymbal  clashed,  no  clarion  rang. 

Still  were  the  pipe  and  drum  ; 
Save  heavy  tread,  and  armour's  clang, 

The  sullen  march  was  dumb. 
There  breathed  no  wind  tiieir  crests  to  shake. 

Or  wave  th^^ir  flags  abroad ; 
Scarce  the  frail  aspen  seemed  to  quake, 

That  shadowed  o'er  their  road. 
Their  vaward  scouts  no  tidings  bring. 

Can  rouse  no  lurking  foe. 
Nor  spy  a  trace  of  living  thing. 

Save  wlien  they  stirred  the  roe ; 
The  host  moves  like  a  deep  sea  wave. 
Where  rise  no  rocks  its  pride  to  brave. 

High  swelling,  dark,  and  slow. 
The  lake  is  passed,  and  now  they  gair 
A  narrow  and  a  broken  plain, 
Before  the  Trosach's  rucfged  jaws; 
And  here  the  horse  and  spear-man  pause. 


Canto  VI.    THE  GUARD-ROOM  143 

While,  to  explore  the  dangerous  glen, 
Dive  through  the  pass  the  archer-men. 

xvn. 

"  At  once  there  rose  so  wild  a  yell 
Within  that  dark  and  narrow  dell, 
As  all  the  fiends,  from  heaven  that  fell, 
Had  peeled  the  banner-cry  of  hell ! 

Forth  from  the  pass  in  tumult  driven, 

Like  chaff  before  the  wind  of  heaven, 
The  archery  appear : 
For  life  !  for  life  !  their  flight  they  ply — 
And  shriek,  and  shout,  and  battle-cry, 
And  plaids,  and  bonnets  waving  high,  . 
And  broadswords  flashing  to  the  sky, 

Are  maddening  in  their  rear. 
Onward  they  drive,  in  dreadful  race, 

Pursuers  ana  pursued ; 
Before  that  tide  of  flight  and  chase. 
How  shall  it  keep  its  rooted  place, 

The  spearsmen's  twilight  wood? 
— '  Down,  down,'  cried  Mar, '  your  lances  down  I 

Bear  back  both  friend  and  foe  I' 
Like  reeds  before  the  tempest's  frown. 
That  serried  grove  of  lances  brown 

At  once  lay  levelled  low  ; 
And  closely  shouldering  side  to  side, 
The  bristling  ranks  the  onset  bide. — 
— '  We'll  quell  the  savage  mountaineer. 

As  their  Tinchel*  cows  the  game ! 
Tliey  come  as  fleet  as  forest  deer, 

We'll  drive  them  back  as  tame.'  ~ 

xvin. 

•'Bearing  before  them,  in  their  course, 
The  relics  of  the  archer  force, 

*A  circle  of  sportsmen,  who  by  surrounding  a  great  space, 
and  gradually  narrowing,  brought  immense  quantities  of 
deer  together,  wbicli  usuaUy  made  desperate  effortfi  U> 
Veak  tiiroaRh  the  Tinchel 


144  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  V: 

Like  wave  with  crest  of  sparkling  foam, 
Right  onward  did  Clan-Alpine  c»>ine. 

Above  their  tide,  each  broadsword  bria;li» 
Was  brandishing  like  beam  of  light, 
Each  targe  was  dark  below  ; 

And  with  tiie  ocean's  mighty  swing, 

When  heaving  to  the  tempest's  wing. 
They  hurled  tiieni  on  the  foe. 
]hcard  t'le  lanee's  shivering  r.rash, 
As  when  the  wliirlwind  rends  the  ash  ; 
I  heard  the  broadsword's  deadly  clang, 
As  if  a  liundrcd  anvils  rang  I 
But  Moray  wheeled  his  rearward  rank 
Of  horsemen  on  Clan-Alpine's  flank, — 

— '  JMy  banner-man,  advance ! 
I  see,'  he  cried, '  their  column  shake  : — 
Now.  gallants !  for  your  ladies'  sake, 

Upon  them  with  the  lance  1' — 
Tlie  horsemen  dashed  among  the  route  ; 

As  deer  break  t!irough  the  broom; 
Their  steeds  arc  stout,  tiieir  swords  are  out 

They  soon  make  lightsome  room. 
Clan-Alpine's  best  are  backward  bornc- 

Where,  where,  was  Roderick  then.' 
One  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn 

Wore  worth  a  thousand  men. 
And  refluent  tlirough  the  pass  of  fear 

The  battle's  tide  was  pour'd  ; 
Vanished  the  Saxon's  struggling  spear. 

Vanished  the  mountain  sword. 
As  Bracklinn's  chasm,  so  black  and  stfct>jj, 

Receives  her  roaring  linn, 
As  the  dark  caverns  of  tlie  deep 

Suck  the  wild  whirlpool  in. 
So  did  the  deep  and  darksome  pass 
Devour  the  battle's  minL'"led  mass, 
None  linger  now  upon  the  plain. 
Save  those  vvlio  ne'er  .shall  fiirht  asrain 


Canto  VI.     THP:  GUARD  ROOM.  i4i 


/ 


♦*  No  .V  westward  rolls  the  batv  e  s  din,' 
That  deep  aiid  doubling  pass  with'Ji. 
Minstrel,  away  I  the  work  of  iato 
Is  bearing  on :  its  issue  wait, 
Where  the  rude  Trosacii's  dread  defile 
Opens  on  Katrine's  lake  and  isle. 
Gray  Benvenue  1  soon  repassed, 
Loch-Katrine  lay  beneath  me  cast. 
The  sun  is  set : — the  clouds  are  me*- 

The  lowering  scowi  oi  nedvcn 
An  inky  hue  oi'  livid  blue 

To  the  deep  lake  has  given  ; 
Strange  gusts  of  wind  from  mountain  glen 
Swept  o'er  the  lake,  then  sunk  agon. 
I  lieeded  not  the  eddying  surge. 
Mine  eye  but  saw  the  Trosach's  gorge, 
Mine  ear  but  heard  that  sullen  sound, 
Whicli  like  an  earthquake  shook  the  grouniS. 
And  spoke  the  stem  and  desperate  strife 
That  parts  not  but  with  parting  life 
Seeming,  to  minstrel-ear,  to  toll 
The  dirge  of  many  a  passing  soil. 
Nearer  it  comes — the  dim-wood  gler. 
The  martial  flood  disgorged  agen, 

But  not  in  mingled  tide  ; 
The  plaided  warriors  of  ihe  North, 
High  on  the  mountain  thunder  forth. 

And  overhang  its  side  ; 
While  by  the  lake  below  appears 
The  iarkening  cloud  of  Saxon  spears. 
At  weary  bay  each  shattered  band, 
Kying  their  foeman,  sternly  stand; 
Their  banners  stream  like  shattered  »aj'.. 
That  flings  its  fragments  to  the  gale. 
And  broken  arms  and  disarray 
Marked  the  fell  havoc  of  the  div'> 
K 


146  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.  Canto  VI 

XX. 

"  Viewing  the  mountain's  ridge  askance. 
The  Saxons  stood  in  sullen  trance, 
Till  Moray  pointed  with  his  lance, 

And  cried — '  Behold  yon  isle  I — 
See  !  none  are  lefl  to  guard  its  strand. 
But  women  weak,  that  wring  the  hand  ; 
'Tis  there  of  yore  the  robber  band 

Their  booty  wont  to  pile; 
My  purse,  with  bonnet-pieces  store, 
To  him  will  swim  a  bow-sliot  o'er. 
And  loose  a  shallop  from  the  sliore. 
Lightly  we  lame  the  war-wolf  then, 
Lords  of  his  mate,  and  brood,  and  den.' — 
Forth  from  the  ranks  a  spearman  sprung. 
On  earth  his  casque  and  corslet  rung. 
He  plunged  him  in  the  wave  : — 
All  saw  the  deed — the  purpose  knew. 
And  to  their  clamours  lienvenue 

A  mingled  echo  gave  ; 
The  Saxons  shout,  their  mate  to  cheer. 
The  helpless  females  scream  for  fear, 
And  yells  for  rage  the  mountaineer. 
'Twas  then,  as  by  the  outcry  riven, 
Poured  down  at  once  the  lowering  heav.n  -. 
A  whirlwind  swept  Loch-Katrine's  brcasl. 
Her  billow  reared  his  snowy  crest. 
Well  for  the  swimmer  swelled  it  high. 
To  mar  the  highland  marksman's  eye; 
For  round  him  showered,  mid  rain  and  bail 
The  vengeful  arrows  of  the  Gael. — 
In  vain. — He  nears  the  isle — and  lol 
His  hand  is  on  a  shallops  bow. 
— Just  then  a  flash  of  lightning  came. 
It  tinired  the  waves  and  strand  with  fliime^- 
I  marked  Dunccaggan's  widowed  danit:^. 
Behind  an  oak  I  saw  her  stand. 
Her  husband's  dirk  gleamed  in  her  hand- 
It  darkened — but  amid  the  moan 
Of  wavBB,  I  heard  a  dy\r,g  groan  ;- 


Canto  VI,     THE  GUARD-ROOM.  U? 

Another  flash ! — the  spearman  floats 
A  weltering  corse  beside  the  boats. 
And  the  stern  Matron  o'er  him  stood, 
Her  hand  and  dagger  sti  ■'arniiig  blood.- 

XXI. 

"  Revenge  !  revenge  f  the  Saxons  cried 
Tiie  GaePs  exulting  shout  rcpUed, 
Despite  the  elemental  rage, 
Again  they  hurried  to  engage ; 
But,  ere  tiiey  clos'd  in  desperate  fight. 
Bloody  witli  spurring  camo  a  knight. 
Sprung  from  his  hoise,  and  from  a  crag. 
Waved  'tvvixt  the  hosts  a  milk-white  lltigj,.- 
Clarion  and  trumpet  by  his  side 
Rung  forth  a  truce-note  high  and  wide. 
While,  in  the  monarch "s  natne,  afar 
A  herald's  voice  forbade  the  war; 
For  Bolhwell's  lord,  and  Roderick  bold. 
Were  both,  he  said,  in  captive  hold." — 
But  here  the  lay  made  sudden  stand, 
Tlie  harp  escaped  the  minstrel's  hand  ! 
Oft  had  he  stolen  a  glance,  to  spy 
How  Roderick  brooked  liis  muistrelsy : 
At  first,  the  Chieftain,  to  the  chime, 
With  lifted  hand,  kept  feeble  tune; 
Tiiat  motion  ceased — yet  feeling  strong, 
/aried  his  look  as  changed  the  song; 
At  length,  no  more  his  deafened  car 
Tlie  minstrel  melody  can  hoar; 
His  face  grows  sharp,  his  hands  are  clenched. 
As  if  some  pang  his  heart-strings  wrenched  , 
Set  are  his  teeth, — his  fading  eye 
Is  sternly  fixed  on  vacancy. 
Thus,  motionless,  and  moanless,  drew 
His  parting  breath,  stout  Roderick  Dhul 
Old  Allan-bane  looked  on  aghast, 
While  grim  and  still  his  spirit  passed; 
But  when  he  saw  that  life  was  fled, 
ile  Doured  his  wailing  o'er  the  dead. 


14b  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canto  VI 

XXII. 

LAMENT. 

"  An<i  art  thou  cold,  and  lowly  laid, 
Thy  foeman's  dread,  thy  people's  aid, 
Brcadalbane's  boasl.,  Cian-Ai jump's  siiade! 
For  thee  shall  none  a  requieni  say? — 
For  thee,  who  loved  the  niinstjors  lay. 
For  thee,  of  BollnvclTs  house  the  slay. 
The  shelter  of  her  exiled  lino. — 
E'en  in  this  prison-house  of  ihine, 
ril  wail  for  Alpine's  honoured  pinol 

""What  ^oans  shall  yonder  valleys  fill ! 
What  shrHikS  of  grief  shall  rend  yon  hill! 
What  tears  of  burning  rage  siiall  thrill, 
Wiion  mourns  thy  tribe  thy  battles  done. 
Thy  fall  before  the  race  was  won, 
Thy  sword  ungirt  ere  set  of  sun  I 
There  breathes  not  clansman  of  thy  lino. 
But  would  have  i,'-iven  his  lifo  for  thine. — 
O  wo  for  Alpine's  honoured  pine  I 

•'  Sad  was  thy  lot  on  mortal  siage  I — 
The  ca[>tivc  thrush  may  brook  the  cage. 
Tile  prisoner  eagle  dies  for  rage. 
Brave  spirit,  do  not  scorn  my  strain! 
And  when  its  notes  awake  again. 
Even  she,  so  long  beloved  in  vain, 
Sliall  with  my  harp  her  voice  coii»l)me. 
And  mix  her  wo  and  tears  with  tnu.u. 
To  wail  Clan- Alpine's  honoured  pine." — 

/  XXIIl. 

Ellen,  the  while,  with  bursting  heart. 

Remained  m  lordly  bower  apart. 

Where  played,  wilh  many-coloured  irl  -viinii. 

Through  storied  pane  the  rising  beam*. 

In  vain  on  gilded  roof  they  fall. 

And  lightened  up  a  tajKistried  '>v.-»Jl. 


Canto  VI.    THE  GUARD-ROOM.  149 

And  for  her  usp  a  menial  train, 

A  rich  colialion  spread  in  vain. 

The  banquet  proud,  the  chamber  gay, 

Scarce  drew  one  curious  glance  astray ; 

Or  if  slie  looked,  'twas  but  to  say, 

With  better  omen  dawu'd  the  day 

In  that  lone  isle,  uiiure  waved  on  high 

The  dun  deer  liidf;  for  canopy, 

Where  oft  her  noble  father  sliared 

Tiie  simple  meal  her  care  prepared, 

While  Lufra,  crouclfinir  by  her  side, 

Her  station  claimed  witii  jealous  pride. 

And  Douglas,  bent  on  woodland  game. 

Spoke  of  tlie  chase  to  Malcohii-Grsenie, 

Whose  answer,  oft  at  random  made, 

'^'..  wandering  of  his  thoughts  betrayed — 

Those  who  such  simple  joys  iiave  known. 

Are  taught  to  prize  them  when  they're  gone. 

But  sudden,  see,  she  lifts  her  iicad  1 

The  window  peeks  with  cautious  tread. 

What  distant  music  iias  the  jiower 

To  win  her  in  this  woful  liourl 

'Tvvas  from  a  turret  that  o'erhung 

Her  latticed  bower,  tiie  strain  was  sung. 

XXIV. 

LAY  OF  THE  LMPRISOxXED  111.7  '"^^M.-.-N 

My  hawk  is  tired  of  perch  and  hood. 
My  idle  greyhound  loathes  his  food. 
My  horse  is  weary  of  his  stall. 
And  I  am  sick  of  captive  thrall. 
I  wish  1  were  as  I  have  been, 
Hunting  the  hart  in  I'oresls  green  : 
With  bended  bow  and  blood-iiound  fref 
For  that's  the  life  is  meet  for  me. 

I  hate  to  learn  the  ebb  of  time 
From  yon  dull  steeple's  drowsy  chinie ; 
Or  mark  it  as  tlie  sunbeams  crawl. 
Inch  after  inch  along;  th^  wall. 


150  LADY  G?  THE  LAKE.    Canto  VI 

The  lark  was  wont  my  matins  ring, 
Tlie  sablf  rook  fny  vespers  siiiii ; 
Thoi^c  towers,  ailiioiirli  a  kind's  they  be. 
Have  not  a  hall  of  ^ov  for  me. 

No  more  at  dawninir  mora  f  rise. 
And  Sim  myself  in  Ellon's  eyes. 
Drive  the  ncet  dfer  the  fo<'estth:ougli. 
And  homeward  wend  with  tflfei'.inif  dew  ; 
A  blilhsome  welcomb  hlitheW'mect. 
And  lay  my  tropiiies  at  her  tVet. 
While  fled  the  eve  on  winir  nf  ^rlec — 
Tiiat  life  is  lo.st  to  love  ai.d  me  I 

The  li-ii  t-siiM<  lay  was  hardly  .said, 
The  list'ncr  had  nut  turned  her  head, 
It  trickled  still,  the  starting  tear, 
When  light  a  footstep  struck  her  ear. 
And  Snowdotm's  graceful  knight  was  tH^ai 
Slie  turned  the  hastier,  lest  again 
The  prisoner  should  renew  his  strain. 
•'  O  welcome,  brave  Fitz-.lames  I"  siie  s&id  ; 
''  How  may  an  almost  orphan  maid 
Pay  the  deep  debt." — ''  O  say  not  so; 
To  me  no  gratitude  you  owe. 
Not  mine,  alas  I  the  boon  to  give, 
And  bid  thy  noble  father  live  ; 
I  can  but  be  thy  guide,  sweet  maid. 
With  Scotland's  King  thy  suit  to  aid. 
No  tyrant  he,  though  ire  and  pride 
May  lead  his  better  mood  aside. 
Come,  Ellen,  Cornel — "tis  more  than  tirne, 
He  holds  his  court  at  morning  prime.'— 
With  beating  heart,  and  bosom  wrung. 
As  to  a  brother's  arm  she  clung. 
(TCiitly  he  dried  the  falling  tear. 
And  ijenlly  whispered  hope  and  chei'r 
Her  faltering  steps  half  led,  half  sta(t.'d, 
TJ!rr«iigh  gallery  fair  and  hicrh  arcade. 


Canto  Vl.     THE  GUARD-ROOM.  15J 

Till,  at  his  touch,  its  winns  of  pride 
A  portal  arch  unfolded  wide. 

XXVI. 

Within  'twas  biiUiant  all  and  light, 
.  A  thronging'  scene  of  figures  bright: 
It  glowed  on  Ellen's  dazzled  sight, 
As  when  the  setting  sun  has  given 
Ten  thousand  hues  to  summer  even, 
And  from  their  tissue  fancy  frames 
Aerial  knigiils  and  fairy  dames. 
Still  by  Fitz-Jamcs  her  looting  stayed  , 
A  few  faint  steps  she  i'ur-.vard  made. 
Then  slow  her  drooping  head  she  raised, 
And  fearful  round  the  presence  o-azed ; 
For  him  she  sought,  who  owned  this  state. 
The  dreaded  prince  whose  will  was  fate  I— 
She  gazed  on  many  a  princely  port. 
Might  well  have  ruled  a  royal  court; 
On  many  a  splendid  garb  she  gazed. — 
Then  turned  bewildered  and  amazed. 
For  all  stood  bare ;  and,  in  the  room, 
Fitz-James  alone  wore  cap  and  plume. 
To  him  each  lady's  look  was  lent. 
On  him  each  courtier's  eye  was  bent ; 
Midst  furs  and  silks  and  jewels  sheen, 
He  stood,  in  simple  Lincoln  green. 
The  centre  of  the  glittering  ring, — 
And  Snowdoun's  Knight  is  Scotland's  Kin^ 

L^  XXVII. 

As  wreath  of  snow  on  mountain  breast. 

Slides  from  the  rock  that  gave  it  rest. 

Poor  Ellen  glided  from  her  stay. 

And  at  the  Monarch's  feet  she  lay  ; 

No  word  her  choking  voice  commands, — 

She  sliowed  the  ring, — she  clasped  ijer  ha  .;.>. 

OI  not  a  moment  could  he  brook. 

The  generous  prince,  that  suppliant  look.' 


152  LADY  or  THE  LAKE.  Covtn  vi 

Geiitiy  Ije  raised  her, — and  the  while 

Chocked  witJi  a  (fiance  the  circle's  smile; 

Grarc'ul,  but  grave,  lier  brow  ho  kissed. 

And  bade  her  terrors  be  liijinissed  ; — 

**  Ves,  Fair;  the  wandering  ]■,'., ot  Filz-.lainf,.- 

The  fealty  of  Scotland  claiiji  -. 

To  him  thy  woes,  thy  wishes,  bring, 

He  will  redeem  his  signet  ring. 

Ask  nought  for  Douglas  ; — yeeter  oven, 

His  prince  and  he  have  nmch  furgiv(m : 

Wrong  hath  he  had  from  s!:Lii(!t.ruuf  tongue. 

I.  from  liis  rebel  kinsmen,  wrong. 

We  would  not  to  the  vulvar  crowd 

Yield  wliat  they  craved  with  clamour  loud  . 

Ca';  I.    !  :   judged  his  cause. 

Our  !  our  laws. 

Isniii,.,,,w  Lu\  1..1U11-S  dealh-feud  stern, 

\N  ith  stout  De  \  y.ux  and  gray  Giemairn  ; 

And  Bolhwell's  Lflrd  liencerMiih  we  own 

The  friend  and  bulwark  of  nur  Tiirone. 

But.  lovely  infidel,  how  now  f 

Wliat  clouds  thy  inislioiieving  brow? 

Lord  James  of  Douglas,  lend  thine  aid ; 

Thou  must  confirm  lliis  doubting  maid." 

XXVIIL 

Then  forth  the  noble  Douglas  sprung. 
And  on  his  neck  his  daughter  hung. 
The  Monarch  drank,  that  :ia|)py  hour. 
The  sweetest,  lioliest  draught  of  power,— 
When  it  can  say,  with  godlike  voice, 
Arise,  sad  virtue,  and  rejoice  I 
Vet  would  not  James  the  general  eye 
On  nature's  raptures  long  should  pry ; 
He  stepped  between — "  Nay,  Douglas,  nay. 
ivteal  not  my  proselyte  away  I 
The  riddle  'tis  my  right  to  read. 
That  brought  this  happy  ciiance  to  speed  ■— 
Yes,  Ellen,  when  disguised  1  stray. 
Id  lifos  more  low  but  haf»pier  way. 


Canto  VL-   THE  GUARD-ROOM.  r^2 

'Tis  uTider  name  which  veils  my  power. 

Nor  falsely  veils — for  Stirlino-'s  lower 

Of  yore  the  name  of  SnowJoun  claims. 

And  Normans  call  me  James  Fitz-Jarn"«. 

Tims  walcii  I  o'er  insulledlawa, 

Thus  learn  to  right  tlje  injured  cause  1" — 

Tlion  in  a  tone  apart  and  low, 

— "  Ah.  little  traitVessI  none  must  know 

What  idle  dream,  what  lighter  thougi't. 

What  vanity  full  dearly  bought, 

Joined  to  thine  eye's  dark  witchcraft,  drew 

My  spell-bound  steps  to  Bonvenue 

In  dangerous  hour,  and  all  but  j^ave 

Thy  Aionarcirs  life  to  mountain  glaivo  I""— 

Aloud  he  spoke — '"  Thou  slili  dost  hold 

That  little  talisman  of  gold. 

Pledge  of  my  faith,  Fitz-.limes's  ring — 

What  seeks  Fair  Ellen  of  the  King  i*" 

XXIX. 

Full  well  the  conscious  maiden  iruessed. 

He  probed  the  weakness  of  her  breast; 

But,  with  that  consciousnc'^s.  there  came 

A  liu-htening  of  her  fears  for  GrfEtne, 

And  more  she  deemed  the  Monarch's  iro 

Ilindled  'gainst  him,  who,  for  her  sire, 

R,eI)ellious  broadsword  boldly  drew  ; 

And  to  her  generous  feeling  true. 

She  craved  the  grace  of  Roderick  Dhu. — 

"Forbear  thy  suit: — the  King  of  kings 

Alone  can  stay  life's  parting  wings. 

1  know  his  heart,  I  know  hi'-  hand. 

Have  shared  his  cheer,  and  proved  liis  brand  :- 

My  fairest  earldom  would  1  give 

To  hid  Clan-Alpine's  Chieflam  live: 

Hast  thou  no  other  boon  to  crave.-' 

No  other  captive  friend  to  save.-'" — 

RJushing  she  turned  her  from  the  King, 

A.'jd  to  the  Douglas  gave  the  ring. 


154  x.AI)Y  OF  THE  LAKE.    Canic  VI 

As  if  she  wishod  lier  sire  to  speak 
The  suit  that  sunned  her  srlowiuir  ciie:k. — 
"Nay.  Lljeii.  my  i/.td.'-.'  lias  lost  iLs  force, 
And  stubborn  justice  h   .!>  iier  courst-. 
Malcolm,  come  forth  I" — And.  ai  Uie  word. 

)own  kneel'd  the  Grajmc  i  ■  ;>  oiland's  iiW  d. 

•  For  thee,  ra^^h  youth,  no  .su^^   lant  t:..e.-. 
from  thee  may  Veiiw'eance  claim  her  div.^, 
Vvho,  nurtured  underneath  our  smile. 
Has  paid  our  care  by  ircachrroas  wit*. 
Andsou£rhl,  amid  tiiy  faith:":,  can, 
A  refuiie  for  an  outiuwod  iim, 
Dishonoiiriny  thus  thy  I'>yu.  name. — 
Fetters  and  warder  foi  i;io  Grcemc  I" — 

The  lii^^^^Alalcoim  s  neck  he  tiung, 
Then  jrenlly  drew  the  ghttering  band, 
A.nd  laid  the  ciai^p  on  Ellen's  hand. 


HARP  of  the  Nortli,  Farewell !  Th-  lulls  triov* 
dark. 

On  purple  peaks  a  deeper  shade  descendnii: ; 
'n  twilight  copse  liie  glow-worm  lights  her  spark 

Tile  deer,  half->een,  are  to  the  co\ert  wendin^r. 
Resume  thy  wizard  elm  I  the  fountain  lending. 

And  the  wild  breeze,  thy  wilder  minstrelsy  ; 
T/A'  numbers  sweet  with  Nature's  vespers  blending 

^Vith  distant  echo  from  the  fold  and  lea, 
Ai^d  herd:)oy's  evenii: j  pipe,  and  hum  of  housing 
bee. 

Yfl  ,  once  ajrain,  farewell,  thou  Minstrel  Harp  ! 

/et,  once  again,  forgive  my  feeble  sway. 
And  little  reck  I  of  the  censure  sharp 

May  idly  cavil  at  an  idle  lay. 
Much  have  I  owt^-d  thy  strains  on  life's  long     .tv  - 

'^b"-"'!!.!!  <^r-\;'i  wors  the  wtirld  has  never  kmi"' 


<:ario  vl.      t'ilK  (TUAkD-Kifur-:!.  ii^ 

When  ..n  tho  weary  night  dawiicti  wearier  day. 

And  bitterer  was  tlie  gnei'  devourecj  aione. 
That  1  o'eriive  such  woos,  Enchantress '.  is  lii.t;. 
own. 

Hark!  as  my  ling-ering  footstep?  slow  retire. 

Some  spirit  oi"  ilio  Air  has  waked  thy  slriijg^ 
*Tis  now  a  Serap  i  i)old,  with  toucli  of  fire. 

'Tis  now  the  brush  of  Fairy's  frolic  wing. 
Receding  now.  the  dyiny  numbers  rin^' 

Fainter  and  fainter  down  the  ruiiijied  dell. 
And  now  the  mountain  breezes  scarcely  brintj 

A  wanderinir  wit'^h-nr.i.;  of  tiie  (Ustant  speh— 
And  now.  'tis  silent  all  1 — Enchantres.^,  faro  i^e* 


/.m.^  k  «j  ».Tos» 


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